The Mudblood Act
by Monny287
Summary: Challenge fic. After the Final Battle, Harry is dead, Hermione captured and forced into slavery, and Voldemort signs the Mudblood Act. With Harry not around, where does that leave Hermione? And who is this cloaked stranger that comes to save her?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I were J.K., HBP would have turned out _much_ different.

A/N: This is a challenge fic, obviously named "The Mudblood Act", posted by evenstar921311 on Portkey. It looked like so much fun, I couldn't resist.

"No, you're not going," Harry crossed his arms. Hermione did the same, glaring at him with her best Hermione Granger Glare. "I'm not budging on this."

"Well, you're going to have to," she said. "Because I'm going and there is no way you can stop me."

"Please, Hermione, just do this for me," Harry said, almost pleading with her, his resolve cracking a bit. "I can't have you out there."

"You're letting Ron go,"

"Well, Ron is….Ron,"

"And Ginny,"

"Well….um…." he was running out excuses. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please, just do this for me."

"How many times have I told you? You don't have to do this alone!"

"I know that. And I won't be alone! There will be Order members and other D.A. members….and other people… I just don't want you there, okay?"

"And why not?"

"It's complicated"

"Enlighten me," she said, raising her eyebrows, though not breaking her stance.

"I just can't have you out there!" he said, raising his voice helplessly.

"You keep saying that. But you've yet to give me a reason as to why,"

"I won't have you getting hurt," he said, his frustration flaring up. She wasn't getting it, could never get it.

"I've gotten hurt before," she said, "It won't be anything new."

"What if you die!" he raised his voice another decibel. He was glad they were in an empty Common Room. This was defiantly not something he'd like to share with the rest of Gryffindor House. He was grasping at straws. He was frantically trying to come up with a reason as to why she couldn't go that she would accept. "What then?"

"If it's to take out a psycho-maniac like Voldemort, I'll take my chances,"

"I won't let you! I don't want you getting hurt! I don't want you to die!" she sighed and uncrossed her arms. She gave him a pleading look.

"Please, Harry, I can't have you going out there by yourself,"

"I told you! I won't be alone!"

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here and knit?"

"Knit, read, do whatever you like, but you're staying here,"

"You don't understand! I can't do that! I can't just sit here and be worried sick that you might be hurt…..or dead!"

"And I can't have you on the front line, where _you_ could get hurt or…killed. I can't lose anyone else! Especially you! That's why you have to stay here. Please, Hermione, no more questions, just do this…..for me?"

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, tears ebbing into her voice. He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know. Please, just stay here?"

"I can't do that, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow on the front line," she said, and went up to the girl's dormitories. Harry sighed, and flopped on the couch. He stared into the dying flames of the fireplace. He hugged one of the enormous throw pillows that lay next to him. He couldn't do it. Scenario after scenario kept creeping into his mind; of Hermione getting hurt, getting killed, over and over again. He felt something wet on his face, and was surprised to find that he was crying. He sobbed quietly into the pillow, and barely heard it when Parvarti and Lavender came down the stairs.

"Harry? You okay?" Lavender cautiously tapped him on the shoulder. He wiped away the tears and looked at her.

"Yeah, fine, just great," he mumbled, angrily throwing the pillow aside and crossing his arms. Lavender and Parvarti looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, sure Harry. You always bawl into throw pillows at three in the morning," Parvarti said. "Is it Hermione? She looked pretty upset when she came up."

"Yeah, she was mumbling something about you being overprotective or something like that," Lavender chimed in. "So….do you want to talk about it?" Actually, talking to Lavender and Parvarti about his relationship problems was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Not really," he said.

"Well, why don't you just give us a run through?" Lavender sat down next to him on the couch. "We may be able to help."

"I don't want her at the front line tomorrow, and she wants to go. That's about it,"

"Why don't you want her to go?"

"I don't want her getting hurt," was the curt reply.

"Yet you're letting your best friend go with you. He could get hurt too,"

"But with Ron….it's different,"

"Why is it different? He's still you're best friend," Parvarti pointed out. Harry sighed. Why _was_ it different? All he was doing was switching one best friend for another.

"I don't know. Hermione is…..Hermione. I just don't want her getting hurt,"

"Is it because you care more about Hermione than Ron?"

"No!" Harry said immediately. "I care about them both equally."

"Okay…"

"I do! They're both my best friends,"

"Then why is it you don't want Hermione to go, but you want Ron to go?"

"I can't protect her if she's out there," he said, holding his head in his hands. "She might get hurt, or even killed. I don't want that."

"What about Ron?"

"Ron can take care of himself."

"You do know that Hermione knows and can do more spells than Ron, right? She can take care of herself too,"

"I know that! I guess I'm just being selfish,"

"Selfish?" they both asked at the same time.

"I need her too much in my life. I mean, she's stuck by me, helped me with homework…..and given me hugs when I need them,"

"Anything else?"

"It's just….everything. She's so…unique. I've never seen anyone look as good as Hermione does when she rolls out of bed, or when she's tired, or the electrified look she gets when she's fighting with Ron…again. And she's so nice, not just to me. I told her once that she'd make a great mother someday…." He was rambling, and he knew it.

"Of whose children is the question," Lavender said. "David's, perhaps?" David was Hermione's latest ex-boyfriend.

"No," Harry said, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. None of her boyfriends were good enough for her, at least not by his standards. They were all too dim-witted, or too greasy, or too cruel. He'd wanted to hex every single one of them. And then….it hit him. He loved her. He loved everything about her, and his brain immediately started to search for new things, as a picture of her popped up in his mind.

"Then whose, Harry?" Parvarti urged him, poking him in the arm. "I think you know, don't you?"

"I think he does," Lavender agreed. "Whose children, Harry?" He was dumbstruck for a few minutes, his jaw just hanging out in mid-air. His mind was reeling. How? How could he have sat there all this time and never wanted to be more than friends with Hermione? To reach out and touch those silky locks or to have her body fit perfectly with his?

"Mine," he said finally, leaning back into the couch and rubbing his forehead. Parvarti and Lavender smiled.

"Our work here is done," Lavender said, and she and Parvarti stood up to leave.

"Wait!" he called.

"Yes?"

"Could you do me a favor?" Lavender and Parvarti looked at each other.

"Depends on what the favor is," Lavender said, leaning on the railing of the girl's dormitory stairs. "And don't worry, we won't tell Hermione about this little conversation."

"No, that's not the favor. You two aren't going to the battle, are you?"

"No, our parents wrote to the school to specifically forbid it,"

"Good. Then, could you maybe, keep Hermione in your room? I really, really need her to stay in the castle. I don't want her getting hurt…especially now that I know. Could you do that for me?"

"Sure thing, Harry," Lavender said, "But if Hermione kills us, we're coming back to haunt you." Harry chuckled.

"Fair deal. Remember, keep here there. No one comes in, no one goes out. Got it?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Parvarti saluted him and turned to go up the stairs. "Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He stared again into the fireplace, though the embers had died hours ago. He replayed every instance he and Hermione had spent together, all the hugs, the adventures, the looks, everything. He couldn't believe how he couldn't have realized earlier, it was so obvious. And he had never noticed. Now, it could be too late. He heard the clock chime five, then six, then seven. Dawn crept into the Common Room to find Harry still awake, not a bit tired. He heard the clock chime eight, and realized that he probably should wake up Ron and the rest of the make shift army.

Presently, he heard the door to the girl's dormitory open, and out stepped Hermione, dressed in jeans and one of Harry's old sweatshirts he had outgrown years ago.

"Ready to go?" she asked, pulling her long, now to Harry, irresistible hair into a ponytail and descending the stairs. Harry looked to the doorway in panic. Where were Lavender and Parvarti? Weren't they supposed to be keeping her in the dorm?

"Anything wrong, Harry?" she asked coolly. Obviously, their argument had not dissipated. Harry weakly shook his head and gulped. He should have known better than to trust the Gossip Queens of Hogwarts. Now what was he going to do?

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face. She was standing close, much too close. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?" Oh, no. Not the look. The look that could make him do anything, and at the moment, made him want to sink into a puddle of goop. The pressure of her hand on his shoulder was driving him crazy. He took step back. He needed time to collect his thoughts, before he did something he would regret later.

"Have you woken up Ron yet? You know he's heavy sleeper," Harry shook his head, and again looked to the top of the girl's dormitory stairs.

"I'm up, I'm up," came a voice from the boy's dormitory stairs. Ron stood there, in mismatched blue corduroy pants and tan sweater. He rubbed his eyes. He opened his eyes and looked at his best friends in a mixture of bewilderment and surprise.

"Wait," he said, looking from Harry to Hermione and back. "I though you weren't going to let her go," he looked at Harry.

"And he's not," came Parvarti's voice from the stairs. "Sorry, Harry. Our clocks are ten minutes slow. I forgot." Harry gulped, and a rush of relief fell over him.

"What? Of course I'm going. I told Harry yesterday that there was nothing he could do to stop me," she crossed her arms and glared at Harry. "Please explain."

"Well, you see…." Lavender said, coming to join her counterpart on the stairs. "Harry decided that it was _not_ in your best interest, or his, for you to go today. Therefore, he employed us to make sure you don't." Hermione's eyed sparked.

"Excuse me?" she glared harder at Harry. He had the distinct feeling that he was about to get slapped. Ron took a few steps back. "I can't believe this! I've stuck by you all these years, and suddenly you're casting me aside?"

"I am _not_ casting you aside!" Harry said; his own anger surfacing. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"We're not going over this again. I'm going," she said, making her way to the Portrait Hole. Harry sprinted in front of her to block it.

"Move, Potter," Harry winced. She'd never called him Potter before. It surely couldn't be good. "Please, don't make me hex you." She took out her wand from her front pocket and pointed it at Harry. At this point, he was terrified. He'd never been on the receiving end of Hermione's wrath, and he didn't want to be.

"_Expelliarmus" _Lavender said, and Hermione watched, dumbfounded, as her wand made a large arch and landed in Lavender's outstretched hand.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, Hermione," she said calmly. "Now, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way is that you just come up to the dormitory with us, out of harm's way, and the hard way would be forcing us to use a spell on you, and forcible carrying you up to the dormitory."

"Either way, you're ending up in that dormitory," Parvarti said, crossing her arms.

Hermione looked as if she had been betrayed. She looked wildly about her, looking for someone who would sympathize with her. Ron had removed himself from the room shortly after she'd turned on Harry.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry said, his head hanging. "It was the only way I could get you to stay, seeing as you wouldn't do it willingly." Hermione said nothing, but he could feel her glare penetrating his head. Harry looked at his watch. It was time to go. He nodded to Parvarti and Lavender.

"Come on, Hermione, time to go," Parvarti said, coming over and putting and arm around her shoulders. Hermione violently jerked out of her grasp.

"Hermione, we'd rather not have to resort to spells," Lavender said.

"Please just come along," Parvarti pleaded with her. Harry remained silent, but tears were streaming down his face. She was hurt, and in pain, he could tell, but this was for her own good, and he wasn't going to budge on it. She walked over to him and slapped him hard on the cheek, but even that pain couldn't compare to the gnawing ache he felt in the pit of his stomach. He didn't move, save to wrap his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair, as she rained down punches onto his chest, sobbing. "I'm so sorry." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned her over to her keepers for the duration of the battle.

"Come on, Hermione," Lavender said, taking one of her arms and leading her up towards the stairs. "It'll all be okay." These words were doing nothing to settle her visibly frayed nerves, Harry could tell. A tiny rip formed in the corner of his heart. He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and turned to go out.

"Harry, wait!" her voice sounded choked and watery. Harry turned around, only to have his vision obscured by a large amount of hair. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, her sobs muffled by his shirt. He whispered reassurances in her hair.

"Be careful," she said, pulling away and angrily wiping the tears from her face. "Okay?"

"I'll try," he said, giving her one final kiss on the forehead and walking out of the Portrait Hole.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Please, please review! This next part is a bit….obscure….but I think it fits.

_Lavender and Parvarti's P.O.V._

"I can't believe this!" she paced the floor of her dormitory, her tears gone, replaced by pure frustration and blatant anger. "How could he just leave me behind like this?"

"He just doesn't want you to get hurt," Lavender said, for the one hundredth time. "Exploding Snap?" Hermione shook her head and worried her bottom lip, looking anxiously out the window.

"I'll kill him, I really will. If Voldemort doesn't, I will," Lavender and Parvarti winced at the mention of Voldemort. Hermione sighed, exasperated. She flopped down on the bed so hard that it awoke Crookshanks, who gave her a reproachful look and hopped to Parvarti's bed. "All I wanted to do was help him, and where am I now? Stuck in Gryffindor Tower, worried sick."

"Hermione, you have to believe us, if we could tell you why Harry _really_ doesn't want you to go, we would," Parvarti said, "but as it were…we're sworn to secrecy."

"Sworn to secrecy? Since when has that stopped you before?"

"Since it's important this time,"

"Like shouting out that Ernie was cheating on Hannah in the middle of the Great Hall wasn't important,"

"She was bound to find out sometime," Parvarti waved her hand, as if dismissing the thought. "Anyway, we still can't tell you." Hermione growled, frustrated. A few moments of silence passed.

"So…" Lavender said, breaking the stillness. "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

"Enough with the Exploding Snap, Lav," Parvarti said, calmly taking the cards from her. "Let's play a different game."

"I don't want to play anymore games, if you don't mind," Hermione said, hugging one of her pillows and looking absolutely miserable.

"Why are you so keen on going with Harry to the battle, anyway?" Parvarti asked. Hey, she figured, if it worked on Harry, it should work on Hermione. She just prayed that Hermione wouldn't see through it. "You could die."

"So could he,"

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Hermione, you do realize that if you're dead, that means no more going to the library, no more studying, no more friends, no more anything,"

"I know that! It's just…."

"Just what?"

"I don't know. I need to know he's safe. And I can't do that if I'm stuck here,"

"And he needs to know that you're safe. That's why you're here."

"I can take care of myself; he doesn't need to worry about me,"

"But he does, and you know that,"

"He worries just as much over you as you do over him," Lavender added. "So, how come you just gave up back there? You could have taken him and just gone anyway."

"You had my wand,"

"I don't know, Hermione, Lav has a point," Parvarti said, a wicked small smile crossing her face. "You were beating him pretty hard out there. I'm sure you could have just barged past and he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it."

"That's not true, and you know it,"

"I think it is….after all, it is _you_ Hermione,"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, you've got that boy wrapped completely around your finger,"

"How dare you even insinuate that! Harry and I are just friends, we always have been, and we always will be," she ended the last part with a wistful sigh.

"Did I detect distaste at the status of your current relationship, Herms?"

"Don't call me that, and no."

"Oh, but I think we did," Lavender smiled wickedly. She rolled over onto her stomach on her bed and propped her head up onto a pillow. "So spill, Granger."

"And don't forget to tell all the juicy details."

"Juicy details? You do realize that you're talking to the girl who spends half her life in the library, right?"

"Yes, but the other half you spend with Harry," They had her there. Parvarti smiled smugly as Hermione bit her bottom lip.

"So, tell, or we'll……we'll…..Parvarti, what'll we do?" Parvarti sighed.

"Just sit down before you hurt yourself, dear," she patted Lavender's hand. Parvarti often thought herself the smarter of the two (though the opposite was true, Parvarti just got more publicity). "Just tell us. We won't tell anyone." She gave Hermione a sweet smile.

"And I should believe you why…?" Hermione looked skeptical.

"Because we are sworn to secrecy as your roommates. Nothing leaves these walls, my friend, nothing at all," Parvarti gestured around her.

"Can I have your word on that?"

"Of course. Now…..for that story…." Hermione blushed and sat down on her bed, as she had momentarily been pacing.

"I don't know when it happened really. It just did. One day, I'm studying with Harry Potter, best friend, and the next, I'm studying with Harry Potter, crush of Hermione Granger. I never told anyone…and I can't believe I'm telling you. The last thing he needs is something else confusing in his life, least of all me. So, I backed off."

"No juicy details?" Lavender pouted. Hermione laughed

"Nope, sorry,"

"What about David and all of your other boyfriends?"

"I never really liked them, though David was a very good shoulder to cry on at times. Actually, now that I think about it, I didn't get a chance to go out with most of them, what with my surrogate brothers, mostly Harry, coming in and blasting his buttocks right off of him. Annoying as anything, though it made for an interesting half and hour every time I had a date…." They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, Hermione looking out the window every few minutes, biting her nails.

"I really hope he's okay, and not just because I love him. He _is_ my friend, after all, and he hasn't been feeling well the past few days, with his scar hurting an all….and I was just on the brink of finding a way to get rid of his Horcrux scar. In fact, I should go right now to the library….." she hopped off the bed and made her way to the door. Parvarti stepped in front of her.

"Hermione Granger, you are not leaving this room," she said sternly.

"Darn. I thought it was a good try," Hermione's posture lessened, dejectedly.

"You didn't let me finish," Parvarti took a deep breath. They better be snogging by the time Harry comes back from the war, otherwise there would be hell to pay for letting her do this. "What I meant to say was that you aren't leaving this room unless it's to go to Harry….catch my drift?" Hermione's eyes brightened. Parvarti unlocked the door and handed Hermione her wand.

"If Harry asks, you attacked us both and forced your way out the door," she said. "Otherwise, we'll catch hell for letting you out." Hermione nodded knowingly. She tentively stepped outside the door, not sure if they were actually letting her do this; they were awfully frightened of Harry after all. She gave the girls a small smile, and then dashed down the dormitory steps.

"Those two…." Parvarti shook her head.

"Ignorant as hell, aren't they?" Lavender asked.

"Yep, and I think they're damn proud of it, too,"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. J.K. owns everything, yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah.

A/N: Hope you like it. There is one quote from a t.v. show in here….pumpkin pie to the first one who gets it! (I'm evil, aren't I? Oh, well : D ) Anyhoo, please read and review! I don't care if you hated it! Well….I do…..but review anyway!

_Hermione's P.O.V._

She could not get out there fast enough. Since when was the school this big? It seemed never ending, the corridors stretched on for miles, the stairs were suddenly as tall as Mt. Everest, and her prior knowledge of the school wasn't bloody helping at all. Her footsteps made eerie echoes in the hallway, and she realized that no one was there.

After what seemed like forever, she flew out the door of the giant school and faintly felt soggy grass and razor-sharp frigid raindrops pelt her face before she was off again, her mind no longer carrying her along; now it was pure instinct, and she could feel the adrenaline pump through her body and her blood pound in her ears. She felt rather like the Energizer bunny, albeit without the sunglasses and pink fur. She streaked across the grounds, at a speed that surprised even her, nearly tripping over roots and vines and rocks she could have sworn weren't there the last time she had walked across. Twigs and branches scratched at her skin as she tore through the Forbidden Forest, and the rain soaked her through, not that she noticed much.

The battle, she could make out, was happening at the other end of the Forest. Instinctively, her eyes swept over the battlefield for any sign of Harry. Finding none at the moment, she crept across the rest of the forest; she was scared and in love, but she wasn't stupid. Any sign of noise and she'd be surrounded by thousands of wands, from both sides. By the time she could identify herself, she'd be dead.

When she reached the clearing, the sight before her was like one out of an American Civil War story. Bodies from both sides littered the ground, and those who weren't dead were dying; moaning for water, their mothers, girlfriends, brothers, other loved ones. She could see a tearful Ginny holding Draco's head in her lap; Draco had switched sides at the last moment, and even she didn't really trust him, but he was a useful asset to the group, and Ginny was smitten with him. A nasty gash glowed crimson under Draco's white t-shirt, and his face was paler than usual. She quickly made her way over to them.

"Hermione!" Ginny was surprised, and she wiped tears and raindrops out of her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind that," Hermione said. "What happened to him?" she gestured to Draco's chest.

"I'm not sure,"

"Well, is it a magical wound, or conventional?"

"I-it isn't magical," rasped Draco. "Sword…or some..thing."

"Don't talk," Hermione helped Ginny take off his shirt so that she could inspect the wound.

"Bloody hell…Granger….n-not even a…date…first?" a small smile graced the boy's lips. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"As much as I would _love_ to get in your shorts, Draco, I'm afraid that if I don't dress this wound, you're going to die," she took out her wand and muttered something. A small, opaque chart popped up, reading Draco's vital signs.

"Right then," she said. "We're a bit strapped for bandages, so you'll have to go shirtless for awhile, or at least until after the battle is over." She took hold of Draco's ruined shirt and tore it into several long strips, tying the strips tightly around Draco's chest. They turned crimson immediately.

"That should stop the bleeding, at least," she said. "The wound isn't deep enough to cause any permanent damage, and I suspect your lack of breath is because of the pain, not because the wound damaged any vital organs. Your temperature is fine, and as long as there wasn't any poison on that sword, and no infection gets in, you should be fine. I would suggest getting away from the front line. For both your sakes."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said, stroking Draco's hair.

"You're welcome," she said, smiling.

"He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

"Who?"

"Don't play coy. Harry. Harry doesn't know you're here, does he?"

"No, he doesn't. And I don't plan on him knowing, either,"

"Well, you just ran out of luck," Ginny visibly paled and pointed behind Hermione. Harry was making his way over to them, his hair messier than usual, his clothes splattered with blood, and his eyes blazing. Hermione stood up, and dusted herself off, which only succeeded to spread the blood onto more parts of her sweatshirt. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to look defiant, even though she was shaking from head to toe. She saw Ginny quickly help Draco up and hobble away from them. Hermione didn't blame her. If looks could kill, she'd be dead forty times over. She took a step back as Harry approached her.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked her in a deathly quiet voice. That voice was dangerous, and she knew it. She wasn't afraid of Harry hurting her; he'd never do that, not on purpose, anyway, but that voice both scared the life out of her and sent shivers down her spine simultaneously.

"I-I told you I would," she said, stuttering involuntarily.

"What happened to Lavender and Parvarti?" he growled, his hands clenching into fists. She could feel the magic radiating from him.

"They let me go," she said.

"They _what!"_ at this point, the deadly quiet voice was abandoned, and the loud, angry voice surfaced. "Why the hell did they let you go? I told them specifically that no one went in, and no one went out!"

"We had a talk, I realized some things, and they let me go," she was shivering by this point, and not just because she was soaked to the bone. "Really, they were just trying to help."

"_Help!_ How the bloody hell is that helping, pray tell?" she took a few steps back, but his hand clamped down gently onto her arm. "I asked you to stay there for me. I asked you, and you told me you would."

"I'm sorry, but there are some promises I can't keep," tears sprang to her eyes as she wriggled out of his grasp to angrily wipe them away. A spell narrowly missed their heads, and Harry pulled them both behind a large boulder. They were both breathing heavily, and Harry's grip on her arm tightened slightly.

"You shouldn't be here," he said gravely, poking his head around the corner to see if they were in immediate danger of attack.

"I have just as much right to be here as you do," she said defiantly. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You don't understand! I need to know you're safe. Please, go back up to the castle and wait for me there,"

"You know I can't do that,"

"Why not? Please, I need to know you're not in danger,"

"I'm not going to go over what we said last night, Harry. I'm staying, and that's that,"

"Hermione, I swear to Merlin, don't make me carry you back to that damn castle!"

"I'm not going!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Why do you care so bloody much?" she had raised her voice by this point, and the tears flowed freely.

"Because I love you, okay?" the words came like a flood of water, and Harry immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.

Time seemed to freeze, and Hermione could hear nothing, sense nothing, feel nothing. It was as if her entire nervous system shut down, and the only thing going on was the involuntary actions like breathing and heartbeat. Harry held his head in his hands.

"What was that?" she asked her voice barely more than a whisper. The air seemed to grow colder, and she shivered a bit. If this was a dream, she prayed that she wouldn't wake up. This was too good to be true, she was certain of it. Since when did her dreams come true? This wasn't real, she thought with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Harry looked up, his face pale and worn, yet surprisingly boyish. He sighed.

"I love you," he said, with a bit of a defensive air. A few moments passed while Hermione digested this information, like an old computer. Her system was in slow-motion overdrive. She hadn't even realized that about five minutes of silence has lapsed, and that Harry was taking it differently than what he should have.

"I-I'm sorry," he said, looking straight ahead of him. "I shouldn't have said anything at all; I know you don't feel the same. But that's okay; my feelings aren't your problem." He sniffed from the cold, shivering all over.

"Harry, look at me," she said, taking his chin and forcing him to look at her. There was a sadness in his eyes, and she was glad that she wouldn't have to break his heart. "Did you mean it?" He nodded slowly, obviously ashamed at himself. A moment of silence passed, and then something happened that surprised both parties, and many of the close bystanders. Hermione grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and brought his lips crashing onto hers. Harry, she could tell, was surprised at first, but quickly got over his shock and began kissing her back. The kiss became quite passionate, and both Harry and Hermione left the world behind for a few minutes. At long last, they broke apart for lack of oxygen, and Harry rested his forehead against hers, his warm breath mixing with hers.

"I love you too," she whispered, one hand on his cheek, wiping away the rain.

"Since when?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.

"For a long time. You?"

"For a long time, but I only just realized it at four this morning," he leaned in and kissed her again. Hermione found, with great amusement, that she was right when she had said he wasn't a bad kisser. Tears poured down her face, some of joy, and some of sorrow, and she shivered uncontrollably. Harry broke away and looked at her in concern.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked tenderly. She smiled slightly as she heard him call her 'love'. He wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, and she started to cry harder. "Please tell me."

"Why now?"

"Why now what?"

"I mean, why did we have to realize our feelings right before the Final Battle? You could die, Harry,"

"I'm not going to die, I promise,"

"You don't know that," she sobbed, smoothing her hands over his face, his shoulders, his chest, every part of him she could reach. It seemed that the reality of the situation had finally sunk in, and she wasn't taking it well. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," he said determinedly. "I have to come back to you, don't I?" he chuckled.

"This isn't funny," the tears just kept coming. Why was she so emotional all of a sudden? "I don't want you to die."

"I don't want me to die, either," he said, pulling her into his lap, and resting his head on her shoulder. "But this is something I can't avoid. You know that." She nodded and buried her face in his shoulder, soaking his t-shirt even more. A cackle rang out across the field.

"Potter? Where have you gone? Not run away, have you?" Voldemort's voice carried. "You can run, little boy, but you can't hide." Hermione looked fearfully at Harry.

"That's my cue," he said. Hermione sobbed even harder and nearly broke his ribs with a hug. He gave her a lingering kiss and stood up, his wand ready.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She could feel his touch sear its way across her skin, warming her, despite the frigid rain.

"I love you, too," she said, giving his hand one final squeeze. "You'd better come back to me."

"I will, I promise," and with that, he was gone. She scrambled out behind him, keeping her distance. She knew that despite their recent revelation, he would not hesitate to freeze her and send her flying at warp speed back to the girl's dormitory.

It reminded Hermione of a scene from the old west. Voldemort and Harry stood alone in the field, the fighting suspended for a moment, as the Death Eaters nearly salivated with anticipation.

"Ah, there he is! The man of the hour!" Voldemort leaned back on the balls of his feet. "So, witty banter this time, or should I just kill you now?"

"Good luck with that," Harry seemed cool, collected. "I'm not the baby you tried to kill all those years ago."

"And this matters to me…..why?" Voldemort paused dramatically, gesturing with his hands.

"Well….if you _want_ to find out the hard way….I guess we can do that," Harry sighed and raised his wand. "_Petrificus Totalus!" _

At that exact moment, Voldemort countered it with the Killing Curse. The two met in midair, sending sparks flying out in either direction. Harry broke the connection and dodged away, sending the jet of green light careening into a nearby rock and off into the forest.

"Touché, Potter. Your form is almost flawless,"

"Should I thank you, or kill you?"

"Take your pick, it doesn't matter to me," Voldemort seemed almost bored as they dueled, each time the spells collided with each other, each time they missed.

After what seemed like forever, Harry's energy seemed to give out. He dropped to his hand and knees, breathing heavily. Voldemort cackled triumphantly.

"This is Dumbledore's savior, is it?" he lifted Harry up by his scar (magically), and looked into his adversary's emerald eyes. "Pity. What a shame. Such potential you had. You could have been a good asset to me, prophecy or not."

"I'd never join you!" Harry spat, struggling against his magical bond.

"Ah, well. Such is life. So much like your father you are Harry. He begged for his life, you know. Begged on his knees, he did. He begged me to take you, as long as I 'd leave him and Lily alone. But where was the fun in that?" Hermione saw the spark leave Harry's eyes. He was too exhausted to argue, too exhausted to know the truth from a lie.

"He's lying, Harry! You know it!" Hermione shouted from where she was about twenty feet behind him. "Your father loved you. He died for you, Harry! Don't you ever forget that!" Voldemort whipped his head, or what could be construed as a head, around to look at her. A sneer graced his pointy features.

"And what do we have here?" he toyed with his wand, letting Harry fall, limp, to the ground. "Well, this _is_ a fortuitous change of events, isn't it? Two for the price of one." Hermione, for the first time in her life, didn't know what to say, though how does one respond to that? "Go ahead, kill me"? She didn't think so. She shakily reached for her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" she watched as her wand flew from her grasp and landed in the grass some twenty feet away. Damn. Now she was in trouble. She vaguely saw Harry stumble to his feet.

"Leave her alone," he said, his voice slurred from the pain. "She hasn't done anything to you."

"She _exists,_ my dear boy," Tom gestured with his wand. "She is not of pure blood, and is therefore unworthy of living in my world."

"Your world?" Harry spat. "Its about as much your world as it is mine."

"Not yet, dear Harry, not yet. But it shall be. I'll make sure of that," a wicked smile crossed his face as he raised his wand. Harry was too exhausted to fight back.

"Not tired, are you Potter?" Harry weakly shook his head. Voldemort shook the boy by the hair and threw him backwards. "Then get up!" Harry tried, but failed, falling back to the earth with a small thump.

"I said 'get up'!" Voldemort repeated once more, lifting his wand. "_Crucio!"_ Harry twitched on the ground violently, but refused to scream.

"Come on, Harry, give us a good yell!" Voldemort laughed, moving his wand like a conductor's baton. Harry still refused. Tears were running down Hermione's face, but she felt rooted to the ground; she could do nothing. Even as she tried to move, her legs felt like lead, and there was a horrible metallic taste in my mouth. She felt useless, and it bothered her immensely. _Come on! Move!_ Her brain shouted to her. Finally, she moved one leg in front of her, and then the other, until she reached her wand.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you," she heard the sinister sneer. She froze. Voldemort momentarily forgot his latest game and walked over to her. She was shivering from head to toe in fear.

"Give me the wand," Voldemort spoke to her as one would speak to a toddler, and she had no choice but to obey. She reluctantly handed it over. "That's a good girl. What an obedient one she is, Harry!" He looked over his shoulder at the teenager who was crouching on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

Voldemort reached out with a long, spindly finger and pat her cheek. She shuddered in revolt, and took a step back. He wrapped a clammy hand around her wrist. She was genuinely surprised; since when did Voldemort touch muggle-borns? She didn't want to dwell on that now. Her entire nervous system was trying to pull her away, trying to get her far away from this situation.

"I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, and dragged her behind him towards the clearing and Harry. "Such a clever girl, aren't you? Pity you aren't a pureblood."

They reached where Harry stood, shaky and pale. He had his wand ready, and a determined look on his face, despite the tension in the air. She could tell he was about ready to pounce, but a look from her put him back on flat feet, at least for a few moments. She could see his jaw clench and unclench angrily. Voldemort walked quickly, taking long, wide strides so that Hermione had to run to keep up with him. He stopped and smiled at Harry before throwing her violently to the ground.

"Alright Potter, change of plans," Voldemort took several steps back and drew his wand and she scrambled to the ground. This was just her luck. Stuck between two immensely powerful wizards and she had no wand, and one who wanted to kill everyone to rule the world. She was screwed.

"What kind of change?" Harry asked, also drawing his wand.

"Well, instead of me killing you right off, I thought 'Why not have some fun?', and so you're going to watch me kill her, and _then_ I kill you," Tom fiddled with the wand held in his hand. "How's that sound to you?"

"Leave her alone! It's not her you want!" Harry looked livid, and pulled Hermione from the middle of the action behind him.

"You're right, but I don't get out much. The lack of a body for thirteen years kind of stopped me from bar hopping in London, you know,"

"You won't touch her," Harry moved in front of her protectively. A dawn of understanding shone in Voldemort's eyes.

"Aw, do you love her, Potter?" he asked in a sing-song voice that made Hermione's skin crawl. Harry said nothing, but she could feel him tense.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. All the more reason for me to kill her," Voldemort slapped his hands together in delight.

"I'm serious, Tom," Harry's tone was confident, but he was treading on dangerous ground. No one ever called him Tom. Ever. Voldemort's eyes flashed.

"That is no longer my name. It is the name of the first man I killed, and thank Merlin I did," Voldemort spat on the ground and raised his wand threateningly.

"You can do anything you like to me, but don't hurt her," Harry was close to pleading, but he wouldn't lower himself to begging things of his most loathed adversary.

"You are in no position to make bargains, boy,"

"Says who?"

"Cheeky little thing, aren't you? Well, I have ways of curing that," Harry steeled himself against another attack.

"Oh, no, Harry. This won't hurt you physically…it will hurt much, much worse," Voldemort cackled slightly. "_Accio Granger!"_ Apparently, that spell did work on people. Hermione felt herself being lifted high above the trees; she gulped and closed her eyes, she hated heights. She felt herself being levitated to the ground, and set there unceremoniously.

"_Crucio!"_ a terrible pain overcame her. Pins and needles stuck everywhere; she seemed to be on fire, unable to breathe. She screamed involuntarily; the spell didn't allow her body to do much else. She felt that she might die at any time, would have wanted it, she was in so much pain. The feeling of a thousand whips stung her arms and legs, and tears of pain flowed freely down her face.

"Fine!" came the shout from Harry. The curse was lifted, and she could see that his face looked much older, and blotchy and wet. "You win! I give up. Just leave her alone." The last part came out as a choked sob.

"No, Harry!" she shouted, trying to get to where he was as quick as she could, but found she was physically unable to move. "Please, don't!" Her voice was drowned out by a clap of thunder and a flash of lightening. The rain fell harder, washing the battlefield clean of blood, but not of dead. Voldemort laughed triumphantly.

"So much like your father you are, Harry. All emotions, no brains. Typical," Harry said nothing. He was on his knees in the mud, his clothes torn and spattered with blood. He looked old, much older than his seventeen years. No child should have to deal with such things, Hermione thought as Voldemort strode to where he was.

"I want you to beg for your life, Harry," he sneered. "Beg for it."

"Begging is beneath me," Harry said.

"Not right now it isn't. Beg,"

"You Death Eaters have it so easy. No mortality to worry about. No attachments. No one to lose. You kill. You feel _nothing. _You make me sick," Harry spat on the ground at Voldemort's feet.

"Sticks and stones, Harry," Tom said, and raised his wand. "Besides, the story of how you begged on your knees for your life will be all over tomorrow's papers."

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ the words hit Hermione like two ton hammers. Each word was a physical blow, and she had to sit down before she fell down. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She saw Harry slump, and finally fall, the breath gone. She saw Voldemort cackle evilly and then walk away as if nothing had happened. She saw the sky above her, and then nothing. She welcomed the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

She awoke some time later in darkness, and for a moment, couldn't tell if she had really come out of her comatose state or was still out. She felt out around her, and found that she was in a box, and a very small one at that. What the hell had happened after Harry was killed? Then, it hit her. Harry was killed. Dead. That was it. No more Harry. Then the tears came, and wouldn't stop. She felt the warm liquid drip uncontrollably from her cheeks to her upper arms. Wait a minute. Hadn't she nicked one of Harry's old sweatshirts that morning? Or was it this morning? She didn't know, but the point was, she had no idea where the sweatshirt was. She felt slightly uncomfortable, but was relieved when she found that she had the rest of her clothes on….except her shoes. Odd….but she didn't have time to dwell on it now.

She banged her fists against the wood of the box, trying to see if someone would let her out. All she needed was a little air, so she could sit and sort out her thoughts. Her pounding was answered with a few knocks back and forth, and groans from either side of her. Where there other people with her in other boxes?

"Shut up, worthless Mudblood," came a voice from the outside. She didn't recognize it, though with whoever owned it calling her Mudblood, she was sure it wasn't a nice person.

She stayed cramped in the crouched position she woke up in for hours, gradually losing feeling in every part of her body. Every now and then, moans and sobs could be heard around her, and it reminded her vaguely of grade school where she had learned of the slave trade between Africa, Britain, and the Americas. Fear gripped her heart. Was this what was going to happen to her? Being sold into slavery? Wouldn't that be a grand prize for any pureblood family, to say they had Hermione Granger as their slave? Horrible, but there was nothing she could do about it. A sudden feeling of helplessness washed over her, and she was reminded of that split second on the battle field, when Harry was killed. No matter how many times she played it in her mind, things never seemed to go at the right speed. It always seemed to go in slow motion, tearing her heart to pieces as she watched the light go out of his eyes over and over again.

Her thoughts were cut short as she was lifted and set down on the ground. She could hear shouting and conjoling from a crowd, but was unable to tell which direction it was coming from. The top of her box opened, and Lucius Malfoy's face appeared in the opening.

"My, my, my, what do we have here?" his voice was sicky sweet, and an evil sneer. "Potter's Mudblood, locked up. The tables have turned, haven't they?" He tapped the side of her box and shouted something to a person on his left. Hermione felt the box shake back and forth violently, and it being shoved onto the ground with a loud thump.

"Get up! Get up you filthy Mudblood!" an unrecognizable voice said, and poked her rather hard in the side with a cane. Hermione slowly unfolded herself; her muscles had been scrunched in one position for Merlin knew how long, and they breathed a sigh of relief at being stretched. Apparently, no one cared.

"I said 'get up'" the voice said again, dragging her to her feet by her hair and shoving her along. She nearly collapsed under the tingling in her legs and feet. She wobbled around for a few steps, before being violently shoved into a throng of people, all of whom were muttering worriedly. She didn't recognize anyone, but she was sure this wouldn't be the last of the Muggle-born lots to come.

"Silence!" a sturdy man with a very red face and thick neck addressed them loudly. He was wearing black robes with the Dark Mark embossed in gold on either sleeve. A mark of honor, from what Hermione had read. You had to be either a really good Death Eater, or tortured a lot of people to get that status. From the looks of him, Hermione dreaded that it was the latter.

"You have been stripped of you witch or wizarding status, and are now property of the Dark Lord and his followers. All of you are either Muggle born, blood traitors or half blood, neither of which fits in with the Dark Lord's plans of a perfect world. You shall be sold into slavery on the auction block in a few moments. No funny business. Anyone caught conspiring against the Dark Lord, talking about the Dark Lord in an unkind manner, plans and/or tries to perform mutiny, or so much as thinks the name Harry Potter will be killed instantly. You will not speak unless spoken to. When addressed, you will answer with a 'yes my lord' or a 'no my lord'. Do I make myself clear?" he paused, waiting for an answer. "I said, 'Do I make myself clear?'!" he said in a louder voice.

"Yes, my lord," came the reluctant reply from the crowd.

"Good, excellent," the man crowed. "Now, you shall be strapped in irons, for further humiliation and for safety purposes." A few men, holding heavy iron manacles descended on the crowd. The wizarding equivilant of a mosh pit erupted, as the crowd tried to evade the men, and as the men overbore many, and killed many more. Hermione just stood there, allowing herself to be chained like an animal. She wondered what had happened to her. The Hermione she knew would never subject herself to this. She'd fight back, maybe take out a few of these jerks. But it seemed she didn't have the energy or the motivation to do either; it was tiring to even lift her arms to be chained. They weighed probably more than she did, but she didn't notice. She wondered if she was losing her mind, and how nice a feeling it was to lose oneself in memories, as she relived every moment of her friendship with Harry.

"Move along, come on, hurry up! We don't have all day," Hermione realized the line was moving. She felt something prod her in the back, and she dragged her feet forward. She was barefoot, she vaguely realized, and the iron manacles were digging into her ankles. The only thing that could be heard for what seemed like forever was the clanking of iron on iron, and the heaving sighs of their captives. Hermione had flashbacks to grammar school history and the slave trade. Merlin, was this history in action.

She walked for hours, through the mud and the rain, without stopping. Many died along the way; they were simply thrown to the side of the road and branded with an "M" to show others what happened to Mudbloods in Voldemort's world.

Finally, they reached a town. It was rather small, sparse, and dreary. The main feature was the town square, in which was a fountain. She noticed a crowd had formed, and that crowd was getting restless. Many beat the ground with canes or sticks, cajoling the person standing on the fountain to get on with things. Hermione couldn't help but be curious; it was in her nature. She stared at the crowd, lost in her own thoughts.

A sudden crack of a whip and a sharp pain on her back pulled her sharply out of her Harry-reverie. She bit her lip, grimacing against the pain. She stood still, willing the stinging to go away. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Keep the line moving, Mudblood!" the overseer with the whip commanded. She barely heard him. Another crack of the whip, and a stinging in the arm this time jolted her physically forward, and the line forced her to walk. Tears ran down her face, not just from the pain. When had she become so weak? She wondered for the thousandth time that day. She reluctantly moved with the line.

They paused in front of a wooden platform and the crowd. The cheers were deafening as Lucius Malfoy gestured for silence. Hermione could hear some pretty foul language going around the crowd.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" Lucius tapped his cane on the platform. "Yes, yes, I understand we're all excited, but you must quiet down before this auction gets underway." The ruckus quieted to murmurs as Lucius paused to clear his throat. "Excellent. Now, today marks the first Mudblood Auction since the passing of the Mudblood Act two weeks ago," more cheers erupted and quickly hushed, "And today we have some fine Mudbloods for you to choose from. Now, without further ado, let the auction begin!" Hermione saw the first victim being brought on stage.

"Now this Mudblood's a good strong one," he said, whacking the man in the knees. He staggered, but did not fall. "See? Made for manual labor, this one. Shall we start the bidding? Do I hear twenty galleons?"

"Twenty!" came a voice from the back.

"Forty!" came another.

"Eighty!"

"One-hundred!" silence reigned for a few moments.

"One-hundred? Going once, going twice, sold! To the fine gentleman in the back," the man came up to claim his prize, handing over a small bag of gold to Lucius.

"On to the next one!" a woman was dragged on stage this time, past her prime for working on anything, and timid as anything. She quivered there on the platform, her eyes darting from the crowd to Lucius and back again. She was sold for fifty galleons. Just the sight of it made Hermione sick to her stomach. How could anyone think they could own another human being as they would a dog or cat? It was sickening, it really was.

Finally, it was Hermione's turn. She had to nearly be dragged onto the platform; she had no intention of becoming someone's property.

"Feisty, isn't she?" Lucius cried, and the crowd politely laughed their agreement. "Well, that can be quickly remedied, can't it?" He touched the whip located on his belt loop. The crowd clamored for it, and Lucius complied. The third crack today and the whip bit her skin like a snake, leaving a tear in her shirt and blood pouring through. Another blow fell, leaving another mark on her back. A few more rained down. Hermione bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. She could taste the blood from where she had bit it.

"She takes punishment well, and will make a fine addition to any slave supply! For those of you who live under a rock, this is no other than the Mudblood of the century, or rather, Potter's Mudblood. Who doesn't want that in their house? Therefore, shall we start the bidding? Let's say at…..120 Galleons?"

"120!"

"160!"

"220!"

"1, 200," a mysterious voice came from the center of the crowd. It's owner was shrouded in a black cloak that his all but his hands from view. He seemed to be a rather young man, judging from his posture. He made no attempt to lower the hood as the crowd turned to look at him, only stood up straighter and repeated his offer. Lucius looked taken aback.

"Well, there's nothing left to do but say she's sold. Unless…someone wants to bid higher?" an eerie silence made it's way over the once rowdy crowd.

"Well then, 1,200 going once, going twice….sold! To the man in the black robes," Lucius nearly salivated as the man handed over a small bag of gold. Hermione barely got a chance to look at the man before she was roughly shoved off the platform to where the rest of the sold people were.

There were mutterings among the crowd; so much so that it was giving Hermione a headache, preventing her from thinking. She worried. She paced. Who was the person who bought her? Why was he covered up? Would he be cruel or nice?

"Excuse me," there was that voice again, so familiar, yet not. She turned, and there was the man, hood still drawn. "The auction is over. It's time to leave." Hermione looked around. The place was empty. How deep in though had she been? She shook her head weakly and stood to follow him out.

"This is yours, I believe," he said, producing her wand and handing it to her.

"But why—"

"Everything will be explained in due time. For now, let's get out of here and get home, okay?" Hermione once again shook her head. The man grabbed her hand, and with a slight pop, they were gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. The characters belong to J.K. and the song _Amazed_ belongs to Lonestar.

A/N: Hope you like it! Reviews are good for my soul, so please, read and review!

Another small pop could be heard, and Hermione opened her eyes. Apparating was not her favorite way of traveling, and her head was spinning slightly. When she did open her eyes, she had a chance to survey her surroundings.

They were standing in the front entryway of a small house; she could tell the person who had purchased her was not a housekeeper: there was a layer of dust over everything. In fact, the house looked as though it hadn't been lived in in quite a few months, if not years. She felt a pressure on her arm, and she was led into what she assumed was the living room; there was a small couch, a T.V. set, and a playpen littered with stuffed animals and blankets.

"So, you have children?" Hermione ventured an inquiry. She wasn't sure how the man would react; after all, she was his slave. She wasn't sure whether she was allowed to ask questions or not.

"Ah, no, not yet at least," the man replied, taking a seat in the high-backed chair opposite her. "I do hope to have them one day, though."

"Then, why do you have a playpen?" Hermione started to sweat. Just who was this person?

"Well, this was my parent's house. I haven't had a chance to clear out anything yet," Hermione nodded and looked at her lap.

"Something pains you, I can tell," the man leaned forward in his chair. Hermione searched where there should be the man's face, but found nothing but blackness. "Would you like to talk about it?" Hermione shook her head. The man nodded in understanding.

"Of course; I understand. You need rest," the man stood and took her gently by the arm. "There's a room upstairs you can sleep in, if you like." Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led up the stairs and to the first room on the right.

"Well," the man said when they arrived. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Wait," Hermione said. The man turned.

"Yes?"

"Who are you?"

"Not now. I'll show you later, once you've rested. For now, just sleep," the man nodded his head and left the room. Hermione flopped down on the bed and tried to stay awake. She needed to process things, think things through. But fatigue finally took over, and she fell into a restless sleep, filled with nightmares and horrific replays of that fateful night.

She awoke to darkness in a cold sweat. She looked madly around her, puzzled for a moment over where she was. She felt a throbbing pain on her back, and remembered with loathing the whipping she'd received earlier. Carefully, she climbed out of bed and opened the door. There, she saw the man, still shrouded in his black robes, his hand poised to knock on the door.

"Oh, hello," she said, backing up to let the man into the room. The man did so, and sat on the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, motioning for Hermione to sit beside him. She nodded, taking a seat beside him.

"Good. Now, you asked me earlier about my identity," he said, twiddling his fingers. Funny, only Harry used to do that, she thought. "Why don't we go downstairs and talk over some coffee or something?" He stood up and walked out the door. He seemed almost nervous about something. Hermione followed him out of curiosity down the stairs and into the small kitchen, where she sat at the table and watched her master. He measured the water and coffee grounds, and poured them into the machine. Something about him was so familiar, but she was having trouble putting her finger on it. She let her mind wander where it would, and her eyes wander to the refrigerator. It, like the rest of the house, was rather small, and it seemed as though it had been forced into the kitchen; it was a bit too big for the space it had been shoved into. It was dusty with age and lack of use, but the pieces of paper on the refrigerator could have been placed there yesterday. She saw a shopping list, written in a loopy kind of writing; a small child's drawing, all scribbles in red crayon, magnets of all shapes and sizes.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the man placed a mug of coffee in front of her. She watched as he placed two sugar cubes in his cup and took a sip. Funny, only Harry used to do that, she thought. Her mind began to make up crazy theories, but she nipped it in the bud. No, Harry was dead. He wasn't coming back. From her extensive research, she knew there was no spell or potion that could awaken the dead.

"Now," he said, setting down his mug and looking at her. "Before I reveal myself, I need to ask you not to be scared, okay? It may shock you." Hermione nodded, but nervously twiddled her fingers under the table. The man sighed and took hold of his hood.

"Here goes nothing," he said, and lowered the hood. She looked up and nearly fainted. She knew those green eyes; that raven hair. Everything was there but that scar. It was Harry, sure as she was sitting there. She stood up so suddenly that her chair fell over and landed with a clatter onto the kitchen floor. This was a cruel trick, played by a cruel master. This couldn't be Harry; he was dead. She saw it. She was there, she heard the words, and saw him fall.

"Hermione—" the man started, moving around the table to where she was. She backed away.

"Wh-who are you?" she stammered, backing into the living room. She glanced behind her, looking for a door. The man's face turned from a boyish smile into a frown.

"It's me; it's Harry," it was Harry's voice all right, but it wasn't Harry. It couldn't be. No one could survive the Killing Curse twice—it was physically impossible. She ran out the back door into the yard, trying to get as far away from this person as possible.

She didn't get very far; the man caught up with her and caught her by the arm.

"Hermione," he panted, "You have to believe me. I know it's shocking, but it's the truth."

"Yeah, right," she said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, though unsuccessfully. She could feel the man's grip tighten.

"You have to believe me," there was a pleading tone to his voice. "Please, Hermione, it's me, Harry. I swear I'm telling the truth."

"Prove it," she spat, still wanting to get as far from him as she possibly could. She wanted to believe it was really him, she did, but she just couldn't. The man raised his eyebrows.

"Fine, ask me a question," he let go of her and crossed his arms. "If I fail, I give you permission to hex me into oblivion. Sound fair to you?" Hermione nodded and thought of a question.

"I don't know, honestly," she sighed. "I have no idea how much information Voldemort could have passed on to his henchmen, and I'm too tired to think of a question that he couldn't have possibly known the answer to," She sank to the ground right where she was, hugging her knees.

"Okay then," he said, "Let's see if I can prove to you I'm really Harry. Your birthday is September nineteenth," Hermione shook her head.

"Everyone knows that," she said. And it was true; Luna had accidentally announced to the entire wizarding community in the Quibbler once under celebrity birthdays. The man nodded.

"Right…..your favorite color is blue," he offered, sitting down beside her. Hermione nodded, but it wasn't enough to convince her. According to her research, about eight-five percent of the human population's favorite color was blue. It could have been a lucky guess. She told him so, and he rolled his eyes.

"_Okay,_" he smiled slightly, and scratched his chin. "I've got one. When you were in kindergarten, Timothy Atkins kissed you on the cheek, and the whole class laughed. Then, at recess, he tried it again and you punched him so hard he fell in the mud." Hermione nodded, hesitantly. She hadn't told anyone else that story. She didn't even want to tell him, but they were having butterbeers one day, and sharing childhood stories. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Could it? _That's preposterous!_ the sensible side of her brain shouted at her. _You saw him get killed. This has to be a joke._ But eventually, that part of her brain shut down, taken over by the irrational portion of her mind.

"And, if I remember correctly, you did the same thing to Terry Boot earlier this year," there was a mischievous glint in his eye. She nodded, silent. He leaned back on his palms. "_Now_ do you believe me?" She nodded again, this time with tears rolling down her face.

"B-but your scar—"

"Vanished as soon as Voldemort did," he said, entwining their hands.

"Is he g-gone?" she asked. Harry shook his head sadly.

"Not yet; the spell backfired again," he said. "But he was much too powerful to be weakened as much by it as he was last time. He crawled away to lick his wounds. Apparently, he recovered well enough to sign the Mudblood Act." She nodded; that was all that her body seemed to allow herself to do besides process all this information. She looked at her lap. With his free hand, Harry tilted her chin up until she was looking at his face.

"Believe me, Hermione, I tried to look for you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "These past two weeks have been hell for me. When I woke up in St. Mungo's, they told me that you had been taken, and I blew a hole in the wall," she smiled slightly. "It's true! They nearly had to tie me to the bed. It was torture, you know, having to sit in that bed, not knowing where you were, or if you were okay," he reached up to caress her cheek, tears starting to roll down his face. "I searched all of the muggle-born holding depots, but you weren't in any of them. And then I saw the ad in the Daily Prophet, advertising the auction this afternoon. I was so relieved to see your name in big letters at the top that I nearly broke down and cried." He rested his forehead against hers. It was definitely Harry; only he wore that cologne. In fact, it was the one she'd gotten him for Christmas. "I had to disguise myself. I _was_ supposed to be dead, after all. Wouldn't that have been awkward? Besides, you know how I hate to be the center of attention. When I saw Malfoy use that whip on you, it took all I had not to jump on stage and strangle him. A lot of willpower that took let me tell you. I couldn't tell you who I was there; it would have caused a scene. Then I had to wait until you were well rested before I told you."

"I-I thought you were dead," she sobbed, smoothing her hands over every part of him she could reach. She still couldn't believe it. He wasn't dead. He had survived, and she was here with him now. It was like a dream come true.

"I know, I know," he said soothingly. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I never should have let them take you."

"That wasn't your fault. To be fair, you were unconscious," she said, smiling. Harry said nothing, but wiped away the flowing tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs. "I'm just so glad you're alive. I thought I'd never see you again." She said, still sobbing.

"It's okay. I'm here now," he said, taking her in his arms and onto his lap. "I'll never leave again. I promise," he whispered more reassurances into her hair. The rain that had threatened to fall all day finally let loose and the couple was soaked within minutes.

"Come on," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her to her feet. "Let's get inside before we catch pneumonia." She nodded and followed him in. All it seemed to do lately was rain, but she didn't care at the moment.

"Now," he said, sitting her down on the couch, "Let's take a look at those cuts on your back." She nodded, and turned around. There wasn't much to the back of her shirt anymore, and the whip marks could be seen plainly through the remnants of the fabric. She heard him take a sharp breath of air in. She took one of his hands, which she could tell was shaking with silent anger.

"Do they hurt?" he asked, his voice a forced calm. She nodded her head. They did hurt a little bit, though not as much as they had the day before. She could feel his hand tremble as he cleaned and dressed the wounds. When he was done, he turned her quickly by the shoulders so she was facing him and crushed her to him. He sobbed into her neck, tightening his hold slightly.

"I'm so sorry…..bastards……." she could only catch snatches of what he was saying, he was crying so hard. "Kill them…..worse than the Dursleys……love, I'm so sorry……" she hushed him and stroked his hair. Finally, his sobs subsided, and he just sat there, peacefully, with her in his arms, as it should be.

"We should contact the Weasley's" Hermione said at last. "I'm sure they've been worried sick. And the Order! They all think you're dead. And all our friends….you can't expect them just to hang out in limbo……" she rambled on for another thirty seconds before Harry placed a finger to her lips.

"No, Hermione," he said, resting his forehead on hers again. "I don't want anyone else to know yet. I want you all to myself for a bit…..no one else. Not Ron, not the Weasley's, not any of our friends, just you and me." He leaned down and captured her lips with his. Those words _I want you all to myself_ reverberated in Hermione's ears, and sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She nodded understandingly.

"Now, I think it's high time you had a shower," he said, wrinkling his nose teasingly. She laughed. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a bath or shower or something? I don't have any of your clothes here, but I'm sure you can steal some of mine; you always do." He smiled and shooed her upstairs.

When she came back down, dressed comfortably in one of Harry's t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, she found that the living room had been re-decorated. In place of the clutter that had previously consumed the room, she noticed it had vanished and in its place were lit candles of all shapes and sizes. The coffee table had been moved to the side, making the room look slightly empty. She stood for a few minutes with her mouth practically hanging open when she felt Harry's arms go around her waist from behind.

"Ms. Granger, I do believe you owe me a dance," he murmured in her ear. She smiled. She did indeed; she had promised him one at the Yule Ball, but was too shy to go out on the dance floor, and much too nervous to go out onto the dance floor with Harry; he had a tendency to trample toes when he danced.

"Harry, you can't dance," she said, covering his hands with hers. He nuzzled her neck.

"Watch me," he said, flicking on the stereo with his wand. Soft music floated through the air as Harry turned her around and held her close. As they moved with the music, it seemed that Harry could indeed dance.

"I'm pleasantly surprised Mr. Potter," she said. "Where did you learn such skills, may I ask?"

"I have connections," he smiled, resting his head on top of hers.

"Connections like who?"

"Connections like Ron and Lavender,"

"Ron and Lavender?"

"Surprising, I know. Apparently, Lavender made Ron learn to dance, and they were all too happy to help me out when I asked for instruction in the 'fine art of feet-moving' as Ron called it,"

"Please tell me you didn't actually dance with Ron,"

"Merlin, no! Major breach of the guy/guy friendship code there,"

"There's a guy/guy friendship code?"

"Of course. Written and passed down generation to generation of sons, didn't you know?" Hermione looked at him skeptically.

"Yeah, uh-uh, sure,"

"Fine, you caught me,"

"Always do,"

"I know you do," the lapsed into comfortable silence as another song came on, this time one of Hermione's favorites.

_Every time our eyes meet_

_This feeling inside me_

_Is almost more than I take_

_Baby when you touch me_

_I can feel how much you love me_

_And it just blows me away_

_I've never been this close to anyone…or anything_

_I can hear your thoughts_

_I can see your dreams_

_I don't know how you do what you do_

_I'm so in love with you_

_It just keeps getting better_

_I wanna spend the rest of my life _

_With you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

_Every little thing that you do…baby I'm amazed by you_

_The smell of your skin_

_The taste of your kiss_

_The way you whisper in the dark_

_Your hair all around me_

_Baby you surround me_

_Touch every place in my heart_

_Oh, it feels like the first time, every time_

_I wanna spend the whole night_

_In your eyes_

_I don't know how you do what you do_

_I'm so in love with you_

_It just keeps getting better_

_I wanna spend the rest of my life _

_With you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

_Every little thing that you do…baby I'm amazed by you_

_Every little thing that you do_

_I'm so in love you_

_It just keeps getting better_

_I wanna spend the rest of my life _

_With you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

_Every little thing that you do_

_Every little thing that you do_

_Baby I'm amazed by………you_

"Baby, I'm amazed by you," Harry sang the last words softly. The song ended, and the couple stopped dancing. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you," she said, enveloping him in a hug. "I love you so much." She finally let go and Harry looked in her eyes.

"There's something I need to ask you," he said, rolling back on the balls of his feet and trying to gather courage. "Now I know we're only seventeen, and that we just found out we loved each other two weeks ago, and that we haven't seen our friends or family yet, and that you've come back from a really traumatic experience and…." Hermione placed her fingers to his lips.

"What, Harry?" she asked softly. Harry nodded and rested his forehead against hers.

"Hermione, I had this speech all planned out, but now I can't remember a word of it," he said. "But the truth of the matter is, I want to be married to you. _I_ want to be the one you wake up to in the morning, not anyone else. I want to be able to start a family with you, grow old with you. I guess what I'm really asking is…." He got down on one knee (how cliché, he though later, but it was traditional), and opened a small box. Inside was an engagement ring. "Will you marry me?"


	6. Chapter 6

At this point, Hermione was a blubbering mess. She had never heard anything more beautiful than what Harry had just said. Her heart soared. She'd known for awhile now that he was the only man for her, but until recently, her fantasies had been just that—fantasies. As it was, she could hardly believe this was happening. But it was, and she was sure Harry was expecting an answer and that standing on bended knee was probably really uncomfortable (Harry later agreed to that fact), and so she pulled him up by the collar of his shirt and kissed him with all the love she had for him.

"Should I be taking that as a yes?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist. She nodded weakly, and went to speak, though found that Harry's lips were in the way. Man, that boy could kiss. He seemed to be trying to pour his soul into her with one kiss, and it didn't take her very long to reach the same plane of emotion her fiancé (she thought that had a nice ring to it) was.

"I love you," he said, his voice rather husky with emotion. He kissed her again, with the same passion he had before. She soon found they were tumbling onto the couch. Even the sudden movement didn't still Harry's joy at being affianced to the love of his life, and Hermione didn't blame him. She was beginning to feel quite joyful and giddy herself. Clothing was beginning to come off, and it surprised Hermione to find that she was the one initiating it. She then realized that she wanted Harry Potter in every way possible—and it scared her to death to realize it.

"Harry, wait," she said, stilling his hands and sitting up. "I'm sorry….it's just…I think we should wait….until our wedding night, I mean." She watched a goofy grin spread across Harry's face as she said the words 'wedding night'. But nevertheless, he nodded and slipped his shirt back on.

"I'm sorry," she said, straightening her own clothing. Harry turned to look at her.

"Hermione, don't ever be sorry for something like that. I think it's great you want to wait, and I honor your decision. It doesn't change my perspective of you one bit, okay?" he said as they cuddled on the couch and Harry threw a blanket over them. He turned the music down low, and soon they both fell asleep.

They spent the next week in solitary bliss with only each other for company, but soon found they couldn't keep the news from their friends forever, and so Harry suggested they show up for the monthly Weasley family dinner, which happened to be that night. Hermione had apprehensions; she had rather liked having Harry all to herself, but decided that there would be plenty of alone time for the two of them after the wedding and agreed.

Promptly at 6:15, the couple was showered, dressed, and standing in front of the Weasley's front door. Before they even had to knock, Mrs. Weasley opened the door.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she whispered, pulling both of her surrogate children into her arms for a crushing hug. "We thought you both had died. Thank Merlin you're both alright. You both are alright, aren't you?" she looked at them with concern. They both nodded emphatically. She gazed at them with motherly love for another moment more, and then grabbed their hands and pulled them in. And it was just her luck that Mrs. Weasley grabbed Hermione's left hand, the one on which she was wearing Harry's ring. Mrs. Weasley saw the glint of the ring in the kitchen light, and looked up at the two of them in surprise.

"_Engaged?"_ she breathed. "The two of you?" They nodded, flinching slightly away from her, not sure if her reaction would be jubilant or angry.

"Engaged…..to be married……" she sat down at the table and rested her head on her hand. "But you're only seventeen; don't you think this is rushing things a bit?"

"I don't think so," Harry said, gazing down at Hermione. "I love her with all my heart. It was a joint decision, Mrs. Weasley. We both know what we're getting into."

"I hope so," she said. "But that's not the point, is it? The point is that you're getting married! Congratulations you two!"

"Congratulations to who?" asked Ron as he entered the kitchen. He saw his two best friends, and nearly fainted.

"Ron?" Harry waved a hand in front of his friend's face. Ron pulled them both into a strong hug.

"Man, we thought you two had died in the battle. We nearly had," he said, letting them go. "But thank God you're alive. Mum, when's dinner?" Harry and Hermione laughed, nothing could deter Ron from his food.

"In a few minutes, Ron,"

"Okay. I'm starving. But back to this congratulations business. What's up?" he eyed his friends warily. "You two didn't do something like elope, did you? You aren't having a baby, are you?"

"We'll tell you at dinner, Ron," Harry laughed, and watched as his friend went off to tell the rest of the family and the others that they weren't dead. In an instant, they were surrounded, and being hugged and 'Thank Merlin' d over. When the couple got their breath back, they realized maybe they should have given prior warning before coming.

Finally, dinner was served, and it was time to announce their news. Harry was incredibly nervous. He had no idea how everyone would react. Would they be happy for them, or dismiss it as a young, rash decision? He hoped the former, but either way, nothing short of death was barring him from seeing Hermione walk down the aisle toward him. His palms were sweating, as, he was sure, was his face. Hermione clasped his right hand under the table and squeezed it for reassurance.

"Um….everyone……" he said, rather quietly. He was not fond of being the center of attention. Luckily, everyone was paying attention to the two of them, trying to sense what the change in their relationship was. The table quieted down immediately.

"Um…right then," Harry's face turned bright red. "I have something to announce…you see….." he wrung his hands nervously.

"Spit it out, Potter!" came Fred's (or was it George?) voice from across the table. Harry nodded to him and took a deep breath.

"Hermione and I, in the near future, are going to get married," he said, letting loose a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "We're engaged." There was a moment of silence as the news sank in, and there was mixed reactions. Cheering from Fred and George (they confided to the couple later that they had always believed it would be them) and Ron, huffing and puffing from Ginny, and rather angry reactions from the adults at the table.

"You're seventeen!" Mr. Weasley protested. "You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into!"

"No judge in his right mind will marry two seventeen year olds!" came another protest from Remus.

"They'll just have to find one that isn't in his right mind, then," Ron's voice could be heard from down the table. "It's actually not that hard to do……have you seen some of the judges in the Ministry these days?"

"Ronald Billius Weasley, you stay _out_ of this," Mr. Weasley harshly reprimanded his son.

"Well, personally, they're my best mates and I couldn't be happier for them," Ron retorted, spooning more stew onto his plate.

"Ronald, _do not _start," Mr. Weasley rubbed his forehead.

"And what about your parents, Hermione? Have you told them yet?" Remus asked her.

"Well, considering this is a new development, I haven't had a chance to tell them yet," she said.

"Well, I'm sure they aren't going to take very kindly to their seventeen-year-old daughter getting married, or that her fiancé has a knack for nearly getting himself killed!" Remus stood and thumped a large fist on the table. Tonks grabbed onto his arm and forcibly pulled him back down.

"I do _not_ have a knack for getting myself killed," Hermione heard Harry mutter. She nodded understandingly and addressed the table.

"Well, we just thought you might like to know," she said cautiously, trying to dispel any arguments that would arise.

"And we're getting married with or without your blessings or approval," Harry said firmly. "Though both would be greatly appreciated."

"Your parents would not be pleased, Harry," Moody's voice came from the far end of the table. "They'd be a bit angry with you, I expect."

"I'm tired of living in the shadow of my parents," Harry said, his voice rising. "And how does everyone mysteriously know what they would and would not approve of as parents? They died before they got a chance!"

"I was their friend for a great many years, and I agree with Alastar," Remus said, his voice raised as well, though remained seated, forcibly held there by Tonks.

"Well, know matter what they would be mad at me or not, I'm getting married. You all will have to accept that," Harry's voice had lowered a bit as he threw down his napkin and walked outside. Hermione followed.

"I'm sick of it, Hermione, I really am," she heard him say as he leaned on the creaking porch railing. "Everything I do is relative to my parents, every action would have been criticized by them. At least if I knew them, I could hazard a healthy guess, but…." He trailed off.

"I don't think they'd be angry with you, Harry," she said, joining him on the railing. A beautiful sunset shed orange and pink light across the yard. "All they wanted for you was to be happy. And you deserve it, after the childhood and teenagehood you've had." Harry was silent for a moment, until he turned and took his fiancé into his arms.

"Thank you," he murmured. "You always manage to make me feel better."

"You are more than welcome, Harry," she said, placing a kiss on his cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing…sniff.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since an update! Been really busy with school and review for finals and my birthday (sweet 16! Yay!), but I will definitely get the next chapter up in less time than I did this one. Anyhoo, enjoy the chapter, hope you like it…but please take into account I was writing it at about midnight. Please read and review!

"We should probably deal with Ginny now," Harry said thoughtfully. "Just to get them all out of the way at the same time." Hermione nodded and followed him inside.

Everyone was still sitting at the table, but it was deadly silent. While Harry was sure they'd be happy for them in the end, the glaring and evil stares coming from the adults at the table made him feel about an inch high. Ignoring them as best he could, he made his way upstairs. He had decided to go alone; if Ginny was angry, he didn't want his new fiancé to be killed. He'd been on the receiving end of her wrath and didn't relish being on it again. Tentively, he knocked on her door.

"Ginny?" he called through the door. Silence. "Ginny, let me in; we need to talk."

"Go away," came a bitter voice.

"No, we need to talk,"

"Just leave,"

"Don't make me use my wand, Gin, you know I will," she relented and let him in.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"I want to know why you ran out at dinner," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Why do you think?" she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're getting married."

"Yes, I am," he said plainly.

"So, you just forget all about us and move on?"

"That's what you're supposed to do after a break up."

"It wasn't supposed to be this way,"

"What way?"

"You were supposed to come back and want to be with me, not _her_,"

"_Her_ has a name, and she happens to be my fiancé, so watch it,"

"What do you see in her, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's awfully plain, and a bookworm. For most of her Hogwarts life, she preferred books to boys. Don't you see anything weird about that?"

"Not really. Books happen to be more trustworthy than people; their information is all the same, and they don't judge," Ginny flushed and looked at her lap.

"But what about us?"

"What about us?"

"We were supposed to get married; be happy. Hermione was supposed to marry Ron, and be happy about it. Ron fancies her, you know."

"Used to fancy her. He's got his sights set on Luna Lovegood now, from what I've heard. And besides, what about Draco?" Ginny looked up.

"I know, I know. I love him dearly," she said. "But that doesn't mean I don't still have feelings for you."

"I know, Gin, but I'm not the one you were meant for," he said, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "Draco treats you the way you're supposed to be treated. You're lucky to have found your true love so early in life. It took my six years to find mine." Ginny nodded.

"I guess you're right," she said. "I was just being silly, I guess. I am in love with Draco, and he has treated me better than any of my former boyfriends." Harry gave an indignant snort. "Present company excluded."

"Well, now that we've got that all squared away, how is it on the Draco front?" he asked, trying to ebb the conversation away from Hermione.

"Rough. Bomb's flying, situation's getting critical."

"Really? Have you called in reinforcements?"

"We don't have any,"

"Dug foxholes?"

"Yep. The enemy has infiltrated the relationship, and I'm afraid that Draco is having second thoughts,"

"I'm sure that's not the case," he said. "I happen to know for a fact that he's not having second thoughts."

"How?"

"Well, considering you're the only thing he talks about at work, and he has your pictures plastered around his office," Harry smiled. It was true, and starting to grate on his nerves. However, he didn't say anything; he was close to doing so with Hermione. The two boys had started to work for the Order's new Junior Auror Program the summer before, and both had risen to position of senior Aurors.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, giving him a hug. Harry smiled. "Anytime, Gin." She finally let go, and he made his way back downstairs. Hermione met him and they decided it was probably time to go home. On the way out, Harry was surprised to see a very flustered looking Draco standing outside the door.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry said, almost jovially. They were on civil terms, but did not call each other by first names.

"Potter," he said nervously.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Looks like you're going to propose or something," Draco gave a weak smile and held up a box. Harry chuckled.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do it right now," he said. "Hermione and I just dropped that bombshell, and let's say it didn't go over well." Malfoy nodded and tucked the box away. "But feel free to go up and see her. She kind of thinks you're having second thouhts." The pale-faced boy nodded his head and went inside.

"I think it's rather good that Malfoy isn't proposing," Hermione said, taking the arm Harry offered. "If they had kittens when we told them we were engaged at seventeen, imagine what they'd do if Ginny got engaged at sixteen." Harry chuckled.

"And to a Malfoy at that," he said. "Could you imagine the carnage?"

"Absolutely awful," she agreed as they Apparated home.

"I do hope they come around," Harry said once they got home. "I said we were going to get married with or without their consent, but it feels awful not having at least their approval."

"Well, at least the worst part is over," she said, giving him a kiss. "Tomorrow, we have to tell my parents." Harry looked panicked.

"You mean the worst part has just begun," he said. Hermione laughed.

"They won't kill you," she said. "Well….maybe some maiming would be involved…."

"Maiming?"

"Just a little maiming,"

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's not,"

"I see," they lapsed into a few moment of silence, collapsing onto the couch.

"Wait," Harry said, covering his eyes. "We have a bigger problem."

"What? Voldemort?"

"Him too, but no. The Dursleys," he groaned. "I have to back there and get my stuff."

"We'll tackle that tomorrow before we tell my parents,"

"Why before?"

"So that way you can't keep putting it off,"

"I wouldn't put it off!"

"Would too,"

"Would not," she gave him her 'yeah right,' look.

"Fine, I would," he muttered.

"And that's why I'm the brains of the operation," she said, snuggling closer to him.

"I resent that,"

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep,"

The next morning, they were off again, this time to another dangerous territory: the Dursleys. Harry had not seen his aunt or uncle since the previous summer, and he wasn't quite sure how they would take seeing him again on their doorstep.

"Now, I must warn you about my cousin," said Harry, throwing on a sweatshirt. "He's the size of a small killer whale and will latch onto you like a leech. He's never had a girlfriend, and has hormones racing at the speed of space shuttles."

"You've got to be exaggerating," Hermione said, tying a shoe. "Besides, I'm not that good looking." She chuckled and tied her other shoe. Harry gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, love," he said. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met." Hermione blushed.

A few moments later, they were standing outside Number Four. It still looked as pristine as ever, and Harry wondered who did the lawnwork while he was at school, and why they couldn't hire them during the summer. Cautiously, he knocked on the door. Dudley answered the door.

"What do _you_ want?" he sneered, glancing at Harry as though he was something on the bottom of his shoe. "Aren't you supposed to be of age or something?"

"Well, hello to you too, Dud," Harry said, pushing past his cousin (not an easy feat, mind you) and entering the small house.

"Diddikins, who was at the door?" Harry heard his aunt call from the living room.

"It's Harry, Mum," he said. "And some girl." Hermione's hand was starting to hurt from where Harry was holding it.

"Well, hello Harry," Petunia said tersely. "May I ask what you're doing here?" Dudley went over to stand by his mother, glancing at Hermione just as Harry said he would. It made Hermione feel rather uncomfortable.

"I'll be out of here in no time," Harry said. "I just need to grab my stuff." Petunia nodded and went back to the living room. Dudley, however, remained where he was, staring at the couple.

"Dud?" Harry waved a hand in front of his face. "Dudley?" Harry turned to Hermione and shrugged.

"I wonder where Uncle Vernon is," he muttered as he took Hermione by the hand and went upstairs to his room.

"You!" a gruff voice came from the other end of the hall.

"Speak of the devil," Harry rolled his eyes. "Hello, Uncle Vernon."

"Don't you 'hello Uncle Vernon' me," the large man bellowed, the vein in his forehead throbbing, his face red. "I thought you were of age. I thought you weren't going to come back."

"Believe me, this is the last place I want to be," Harry said. "All I want to do is get my stuff."

"Don't give me that cheek!" Vernon yelled, swelling himself up like a puffer fish. "This is my house, and I will not tolerate that kind of talk!"

"Then let me get my belongings and I'll get out,"

"Who's she?" Vernon nodded in Hermione's direction. The comment was completely out of left field.

"_She_ is Hermione Granger," he said. "My fiancé."

"Fiance?" Vernon laughed. "You? You've got to be joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Harry asked, giving Vernon a very nasty glare.

"But you're only seventeen!"

"Since when do you care?"

"Do you even know what you're getting into?"

"Why do you care? I thought you wanted me to be miserable,"

"Oh, shut it Potter. It's not for your sake, keep your shirt on. I'm concerned about the girl. A good respectable girl like her doesn't need to be associating with _your lot._"

"Oh, you mean wizards?" Harry asked innocently. Vernon flinched at the word. "Hermione happens to be my best friend. I met her at Hogwarts, the _magic_ school I went to."

"What have I told you about using those words in my house?" Vernon growled.

"What are you going to do about it?" Harry asked. "I'm of age; you hold no power over me anymore. If you'll be so kind as to let me to my room, I'll be out of your lives forever." Vernon's face turned another shade of red, but let him pass. A groaning of floorboards could be heard, and Harry realized, with an impending dread, that Dudley had come out of his comatose state and had followed them upstairs.

"Dudley, my boy!" Vernon crowed. "How are you today?" Dudley nodded to his father, still staring at Hermione. Vernon was dumbstruck for a few moments, following his son's gaze. Harry stood leaning on the doorframe of his old room, watching the scene with amusement.

"Dudley? Dudley?" Vernon waved a had in front of his son's face. Just like when Harry did it, nothing happened. "Dudley, come on downstairs. It's almost time for tea." He took hold of one of his son's massive arms and attempted to pull him down the stairs. Dudley didn't budge. "Dudley, you don't want her. She's just as freaky as _he _is." Vernon nodded his head towards Harry.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Harry had moved from the doorframe, and now had his cousin and uncle backed into a corner, wand raised.

"Don't you point that at us!" Vernon squeaked. "Put that thing away!"

"Or what?" Harry's voice was deadly quiet. "I want you to apologize to my fiancé."

"This is my house," Vernon said. "I don't have to."

"I've allowed you and your wife and your son to bully and insult me all my life. I've put up with starvation, beating, being called every name in the book, but it ends here! You can insult me all you want; I'm used to it, but I will _not_ stand for you to insult Hermione. She has gone through too much on my account to be insulted by the likes of you!" Harry held his wand to Vernon's cheek. "Now, apologize, or you will pay dearly." Hermione rushed to his side and took hold of his arm.

"Harry, please, it's not worth it," she said, giving his arm a mighty tug. After a few moments, Harry relented, and lowered his wand.

"I knew it," came Dudley's voice. "Always were weak, weren't you, Potter?" Hermione nearly had to dig her heals into the floorboards to stop Harry from giving his cousin matching ears to go with the remnants of his tail.

"I suggest you leave," she said to Dudley and Vernon. "I can't hold on much longer, and he's still angry." The two men nodded and all but bolted down the stairs. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and let go of Harry's arm. He turned and walked into his room, his face stormy.

He slammed the door behind them, and sat on the bed. The room was just as Harry had left it, though there was a layer of dust over everything.

"I can believe you lived that way your entire life," she said, sitting on his bed and looking around the room, which was littered with old clothes and papers. She noted with disgust the remnants of bars on his windows and the cat-flap on the door. "It's so awful."

"I wasn't in this room my entire life," Harry said, grabbing his trunk and shoving things unceremoniously into it.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking the shirt he had been rolling into a ball from him and folding it. "You didn't sleep outside or something, did you?"

"Or something," Harry said bitterly, shoving another book into his suitcase. He sighed and looked at her. "Do you remember seeing a cupboard under the stairs on your way up?"

"Yeah,"

"That's where I slept until the age of eleven," he said, shoving things a little more roughly into his trunk than before. "See?" He handed her one of the Hogwarts letters that had escaped the purge; he had found it when he returned for his first summer away from Hogwarts under the couch. Sure enough, the letter was addressed to "Harry Potter, the Cupboard under the Stairs, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Hermione's eyes filled up with tears as she read the loopy handwriting. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"It was a long time ago, it's okay," he said, resting his head on hers. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" she asked. "Harry, nothing that awful should be allowed to happen to a small child. Being made to sleep in a cupboard? Harry, that's inhumane!" She wiped the tears from her eyes. "If I had known…."

"Hermione, it was years before I even met you," he said, caressing her cheek. "There was nothing you could have done. Besides, I turned out okay, didn't I?" She nodded and kissed him passionately.

"And if I learned anything from the Dursleys," he said, "Besides how to cook, it's that I will never treat my children the way they treated me. I don't want that to happen to our children."

"Well, considering you're nothing like your aunt or uncle, it's a pretty safe bet that it won't," she said. Harry smiled and kissed her.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," he said, wiping them away.

"No, it wasn't you," she said. "It was those awful relatives of yours."

"All the more reason to pack up quickly and get out then, isn't it?" he said, packing the rest of his belongings into his bag and starting out the door.

"Harry, wait," Hermione said, noticing something and picking it up. It was a small stuffed dog, terry-cloth and light blue with darker blue spots and ears. It was clearly worn, but soft. "Don't you want this?" She held up the dog.

"I'd almost forgotten this," he said, taking the dog from her. "I've had this ever since I can remember."

"Your aunt and uncle let you keep it?"

"I don't think Vernon did, but I think Petunia talked him into it. She's not totally heartless, you see," he said, looking down at the old toy. "He helped me get through a lot of bad times. I thought I'd lost him when I moved from the cupboard to the room."

"What's his name?" Hermione asked gently.

"Puddles," Harry said, running his fingers over the soft exterior of his only childhood toy. "I remember watching a program in school once, and a boy whose dog went to the bathroom everywhere was named Puddles. The dog looked just like this, except it was brown, and real." Harry undid his trunk and put the dog into it. "That I am definetly not leaving behind." Hermione nodded and followed him down the stairs. At the bottom, he was met by his aunt and uncle.

"So, I've heard you're engaged," Petunia said, her bony arms crossed over her chest. He nodded.

"Your uncle and I would like to talk to you about that," she said, turning and following her husband into the kitchen. Harry turned to Hermione with a strange look and shrugged. He and Hermione walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"Well?" Harry asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"While we have shown little concern for your welfare thus far, Harry, this I'm afraid we must express concern over," Petunia sat next to the couple. Harry raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "And I have something to confess, as well. But the topic of your engagement first." Harry nodded in confusion. Vernon huffed and left the room, not keen to create a repeat of what had happened in the hallway.

"While I am happy for you—" Petunia began.

"Happy for me? Since when have you cared whether I'm happy or not?" Harry interrupted.

"Let me finish. While I'm happy for you, I think you're both a little young," she said.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, thank you" Harry said coldly. Petunia winced at her nephew's callus.

"Maybe you are. But you've never been married before, and," she lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's not always the fairy tale everyone paints. Believe me, being married to someone like Vernon for twenty years is not a picnic."

"Well, thank you for your concern," Harry said crisply.

"Well, that leads me to my confession," she said, wringing her hands nervously. "Harry I've—well let me start off by saying I'm so sorry that I've been so mean to you for all these years. I know, I shouldn't have, but Vernon was so adamant about squashing the magic out of you that there was nothing I could do. I really wish I could have turned back time to stop him. I've never hated you like Vernon has," she said, giving Harry an apologetic look, while her nephew's jaw was hanging down to the ground. "You were an adorable baby. It was just so hard; despite all the mean things I say about my sister, I loved her dearly. I was jealous that she was the pretty one, jealous that she was magical and I wasn't. However, I wasn't jealous that she married James; he annoyed the hell out of me. Anyway, having you here in the house just reminded me that she was gone, especially since you have her eyes. It was so hard to believe that she was really gone, so hard to believe that I wouldn't see her again, that I just put it out of my mind and allowed Vernon to torture you. For that, Harry, I am truly sorry." Harry nodded. Petunia sniffed and handed Harry a wrapped box. "It's your wedding present." Harry looked at her and hesitatingly opened the box. It was an old photo album decorated on the outside with blue rocking horses and rattles.

"When Dumbledore first approached me with the idea that Lily was in danger, and that you possibly might have to live with us, I went out and bought that," she said, gesturing to the album. "Your grandparents loved taking pictures of me and Lily when we were younger, and that idea that pictures of the young should be taken before they grow up too much was ingrained into both of us. That's why the album's so big," she chuckled. Harry flipped open to the first page. The pictures were Muggle, and so they didn't move, but each showed as much emotion. The first few pages was of Harry as a newborn, with proud parents Lily and James holding him, feeding him, putting him to bed.

"Some of these I didn't take," she said. "Most of the first few pages your parents took, and your grandparents. Because Vernon was so against magic, I wasn't able to be there for your birth, though Lily was there for Dudley's." Harry flipped to the middle of the album; toddlerhood. Some of them showed Harry at the park, sitting by himself in the sandbox, or by himself on a swing.

"You were an adorable toddler, Harry," Petunia said. "Everywhere we went, people would stop and say how cute you were. Dudley, by that time, of course, was the size of a mammoth. I really wish I could get that time back, Harry." She looked at the page Harry was. "Vernon never came with us to the park, and so I didn't have to worry about him keeping a vice-grip on you there." Harry nodded, and a few tears slid down his face. He kept turning the pages of the album, until he got around the time he was school aged. A few showed him with Dudley, sitting next to him at Dudley's birthday party, being ignored. Another actually showed him smiling, receiving a piece of birthday cake. His glasses looked much too big for his face then, though his eyes still shone jade green. The pictures continued up until the age of eleven, right before he entered Hogwarts. Harry noticed that through the pictures, his expression had gone from mildly lonely to downright depressed.

"I know that you probably still hate me," Petunia said, covering his hand with hers. "But I had to get it off my chest before you left the house to live your life. It was eating me alive." Harry had no words; tears just started to come and wouldn't stop. Petunia, too, was crying.

"And I have one more thing to show you," she said. "It's upstairs." She led the way, and Harry and Hermione followed.


	8. Chapter 8

She stopped in front of a door, one that Harry had always assumed was Vernon's office. He had never been allowed in there, and neither had Dudley. Taking an old key from her pocket and put it into the lock. The lock gave with a muffled click, and the door swung open. What they saw took their breath away.

It was a completed nursery. The walls were a pale blue; a small red brick fireplace lined one wall. The room was filled with baby furniture; a crib stood in one corner, a rocking chair in another. A bookcase filled with baby books stood in a corner, dusty with age. Stuffed animals filled a wooden box, and a carousel music box stood on a large dresser.

"What is this?" Harry asked in a watery voice.

"This was supposed to be your room," she said, sitting in the rocking chair. "I had it made for you before you came to us, just in case. I was so excited at the prospect of having two little boys to spoil that I went slightly overboard. Dudley's nursery was almost exactly like this. I figured that if my sister survived, which I hoped would be the case, I could always use it if I had a second child. If that didn't happen, it was always here for you as a guest room. Believe it or not, you visited this house quite a lot in the first months of your life."

"If this was here, why was I in the cupboard?" Harry asked in a strangled voice.

"Vernon didn't approve; accused me of liking you more than Dudley," she said, making the chair rock. "It wasn't true, of course, but I was very fond of you. But no matter how hard I argued, Vernon always had the upper hand, literally. He's the one who made the decision for you to sleep in that awful cupboard." Harry started to cry again. The room was beautiful; he had never known that his aunt cared so much.

"It killed me every Christmas and birthday that I couldn't get anything for you," she said. "I tried one year for Christmas, but Vernon refused, saying it would make you soft, and gave them to Dudley instead."

"Why has it been locked up all these years? Why didn't you get rid of all the stuff when I got to be too big for it?"

"Before you outgrew it, I had planned to use it for another child, but by the time you outgrew it, Vernon had already decided Dudley was enough. I don't know why. I just couldn't bear to see it torn apart, I guess," she shrugged. She picked up one of the blankets that hung over the edge of the crib. It was green, hand-knit and soft. She handed it to Harry.

"I knit that for you before you were born. I was crazy about knitting when I was pregnant. Of course, Lily and I were pregnant at the same time. We decided that we'd each make a gift for our nephews. She made Dudley a beautiful quilt, and I knit you this," she said. "Actually, I knit all of the receiving blankets in this room. I told you, I was crazy about knitting. By the time Dudley was born, I swear I made enough blankets to keep you and him warm in Siberia." She picked up a teddy bear.

"I remember the day you came," she said, looking at the stuffed toy. "I had just gotten up to get the paper when I found you on the front stoop. I paused, and knew that Lily and James were dead. I was numb for a few days after that. You, though, were as happy as ever (you were always such a happy baby). Vernon was disgusted, and believed my sister intentionally got killed just to saddle us with more to worry about. The only thing I remember after I brought you inside was the happiness I felt that your favorite stuffed animal had been the one I had gotten for you."

"You bought Puddles?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I don't know what you named him, but yes, I did. I though it was such a cute little dog in the store. I was shopping for Dudley when I saw it. It was about a week before you were born. If you notice, Dudley has an elephant similar to that dog. I bought one for each of you. I had so hoped you two would be friends, like Lily and I had been. But Vernon's influence reached him before mine did, and hence the spoiled brat you see today." She smiled ruefully. "Believe me, if it had been only me parenting Dudley, he wouldn't be so spoiled or so fat. That was Vernon's doing."

"Why do you stay with him?" Harry asked suddenly. He had developed a new affection for his aunt. "If he treats you so badly, why do you stay with him?"

"Because I can't leave," she sighed and looked out the window. "I've lived with Vernon for almost my entire adult life, and I have no job, nor skills to get a job. Vernon is very old-fashioned; he felt that I should be a stay-at-home mum. I have no living relatives or friends who would put me up."

"But he abuses you," Harry said, much to Hermione's surprise.

"How do you know about that?" Petunia asked in a low voice. Not angry, just surprised that her nephew could be so intuitive.

"Because no one gets black and blue from cooking and cleaning," he said simply. Petunia nodded.

"You always were more perceptive than Dudley," she said. "Dud's turned out just like him, you know. His latest girlfriend came home with him one night. He insulted her right in front of her, and I noticed a few bruises along her arms. I never raised him to be violent towards women, and so it surprised me. Vernon, of course, crowed with laughter at the degradation. I'm so glad you didn't turn out that way."

"Come stay with us," Hermione said. She too, had a new found affection for this woman, who had cared so much for Harry, but had never been able to show it. Petunia looked at her.

"You must be Hermione," she said, smiling. Harry looked taken aback. Petunia gave him a small smile. "I may not have paid much attention, Harry, but I'm not oblivious. You had her picture on your bureau for years. I'm glad you finally realized that you love her. I've known it for years." Harry flushed a shade of red, embarrassed.

"From the way he used to talk about you to Hedwig, you make him very happy. I thank you for that," she said. "No one in this house could have, and so I'm glad someone does." Hermione flushed as well.

"You should really come stay with us," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "Harry talks about his childhood with nothing but contempt. But to live with it by marriage is just wrong. Marriage should be about love, not control."

"Well put," Petunia said, putting the bear back in the toy box. "Maybe I will. I would have to think about it, and orchestrate an escape. But I thank you for the offer."

"You're welcome anytime," Harry said, still looking with awe at his aunt. "We're staying at my parent's house."

"I thought your parent's house was destroyed,"

"So did I," They laughed a little, glad to ease up on the tension.

"All of this is yours, you know," Petunia said, gesturing around the room. "While I'm sure you don't want the room itself, everything in here is rightfully yours. I had hoped, when you got older, you would use it for your own children some day."

"I would love to, Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "But not until a few years from now, okay?"

"Deal," Petunia said, chuckling. She stood and brushed off some of the dust that had settled on her apron. She walked over to Harry and wrapped her thin arms around him. Harry was surprised. It was the first hug he had received from a member of his family since he was an infant. He wrapped his arms around his aunt and hugged her tight, tears streaming from his eyes.

"I love you, Harry," Petunia said, letting go of him. "And I'm sorry I haven't shown it these past sixteen years."

"It's okay, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. "I love you, too." Harry heard a small sniffle, and turned to find Hermione in tears too, looking at the two of them.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked her.

"It's just so happy!" she cried. "I've never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life!" She took a hankercheif from her pocket and blew her nose. "I'm sorry. I just get so emotional sometimes." Petunia laughed and gave Hermione a hug as well.

"I'm happy for you two," she said. "Though I am concerned…."

"Here we go again!" Harry smiled.

"Well, you _are_ only seventeen," Petunia said, though she was smiling. "And I still don't know if you realize what you're getting yourselves into, but seeing you together reminds me of your parents, Harry. They were so in love when they married that you could feel it radiating from them. It was a fairy tale ending to a long and arduous teenagehood. I swear, if I had to hear one more time about that 'annoying Potter boy', I was going to go insane. I was so relieved when they got married that I nearly cried." Harry laughed.

"We know some people who feel the same way," Hermione said. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly five, and they were due at her parent's by six. "It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Dursley—"

"Call me Petunia,"

"Petunia, but we have to get going. Harry has to go get maimed by my father,"

"You're going to tell them you're engaged, aren't you?" Hermione nodded, and Petunia gave Harry a hearty slap on the back.

"Good luck, Harry," she said. "I remember when James told my parents he and your mother were getting married. I never knew that boy could run so fast." She added as an afterthought. Harry paled.

"I'm joking," she said, giving him another hug, which Harry gladly returned. "Good luck anyways."

"Well, consider yourself the first person to be invited to the wedding," Harry said, as they made their way to the front door. "I'm really glad we had that talk, Aunt Petunia."

"I am too, Harry," she said, waving to them as they walked down the front walk.

"Well, that was an enlightening experience," Harry said, wiping a tear from his eye, the album tucked under his arm. "I never knew…."

"I know, Harry," Hermione said, giving his free hand a squeeze. "But aren't you glad she told you?"

"Of course I am," he said. "I just can't believe I never noticed before."

"You were a little young to be noticing complex feelings of adults," she said, and Harry nodded.

"I feel better about my childhood now," he said, looking at the album. "I know that's it's not that no one cared, just that my uncle is a tyrannical bastard."

"Here we are," Hermione said, as they stopped in front of her house. It was an old Victorian, painted a pretty yellow color. "And my father will not kill you, so just calm down!" Harry had started to bite his thumbnail. She rang the doorbell. Her mother answered.

"Hermione! Thank God you're okay!" Hermione's mother immediately pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "We heard about the battle, and the Mudblood Act. We so hoped you were alright. You would not believe how relieved we were to hear from you yesterday. Come in! Come in!" She ushered the two inside and shut the door.

"David!" she called up the stairs. "Harry and Hermione are here!"

"Are they now?" came a deep voice from upstairs. "Well, it's about time! I'm starving!" A hearty laugh was heard, and then David Granger descended the stairs. He was a jovial looking fellow, with graying brown hair and blue eyes. He was attempting to do his tie at that moment, and becoming frustrated with it. Finally, he gave up and took it off.

"Confounded thing," he laughed, putting it on the stairpost and enveloping his daughter into a hug. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hello, Dad," she said, returning his hug.

"See Helen?" David said as he let go of Hermione. "I told you she was okay! Your mother didn't believe me, of course, thought you had been killed, or taken off to be tortured. But I said, 'Our Hermione's too clever for that. She'll turn up before the end of the month, mark my words.', and here you are! Harry, my boy! Good to see you!" He clasped Harry's hand in a tight handshake.

"Well, shall we eat?" Helen asked, smiling.

"We shall!" David said, patting his stomach. "Your mother's been cooking all day. I can't wait to see what she's been doing in there all this time!" Helen playfully swatted her husband on the shoulder.

The dining room was beautiful; a room filled with cherry wood, and painted an attractive shade of green. Flowers in vases adorned a few small tables that lined the walls, making the room feel warm and cozy. They sat, and tucked into a marvelous dinner prepared by Mrs. Granger, who was a wonderful cook.

"So, how are things?" Hermione asked, chewing thoughtfully on a bit of chicken.

"Things are good. Your father's finally relented to retire next year, something that's been coming for some time," Helen said, and Hermione nodded. "How are things with you? How's being back feel?"

"Being back feels good. Much better than in the company of those Death Eaters," Hermione said. She failed to mention the whip marks on her back; her father would be even angrier with Malfoy than Harry had been, and she felt that a hunt for a powerful wizard was not something she wanted to do that night. "And things are good. Very good, in fact," she added, looking pointedly at Harry.

"Yes," Harry squeaked. "Very good." Helen looked at them strangely.

"Is there something you're not telling us?" she asked, looking directly at her daughter.

"Actually, yes," Hermione sighed. "Since Harry, at the moment, is fearing for his life, I'll announce the news. Mum, dad, Harry and I are engaged." There was a moment of silence as the news sunk it. And then, it came.

"Congratulations, dear!" squealed her mother as she gave Hermione a large hug. Mr. Granger said nothing, but poked at his dinner. Harry felt the room rise a few degrees, and he tugged at his collar. He hadn't been this nervous since actually popping the question, and he preferred to live until the wedding, if Mr. Granger didn't mind.

"Harry, may I have a word with you?" David said, pushing back his chair. Harry nodded and followed him out. David opened the back door and motioned for Harry to go outside with him. Harry did so, and rocked back and forth on his feet nervously as David glanced into the fading horizon.

"Harry, do you love my daughter?" he asked at last. Harry was taken aback. How could he think that? Of course he did.

"Yes, sir,"

"How much?"

"Pardon?"

"How much do you love her?" Harry was silent for a moment, thinking of how to put it into words.

"I love her more than words can say. I wouldn't have anyone else as my wife. She completes me. I would die, and almost have, for her," he concluded, thinking that it was the best he could do; there really no words to describe how she made him feel. David nodded and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear," he said. "Congratulations, son." He gave Harry a hug, and then wiped a tear from his eye.

"I can't believe she grew up so fast," he said. "It seems like just yesterday I was teaching her to tie her shoes, and now she's engaged. I feel old, Harry." He turned, wiping away another tear, and went back inside. Harry stood, slightly bewildered, on the back porch, for a few moments, before going back inside.

"This has been an interesting day," remarked Hermione, when they were home and in bed.

"Yes, it has," Harry agreed, before falling into a deep sleep.

The next few months Harry could barely remember. It was all a blur of wedding plans and Death Eater hunting. The matrimonial tornado that was the team of Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Granger, and Aunt Petunia (much to everyone's surprise), went right to work, constructing a beautiful wedding, complete with home-made wedding cake and wizarding wedding traditions. The day had been set for the twenty-seventh of August, perfect weather for the wedding they had planned. As for the Death Eater hunting, every lead led to a dead end. The only thing Harry could hope for was that Voldemort wouldn't interrupt his wedding.

The day of the wedding finally arrived, and Harry was a wreck. Nothing seemed to go right; he couldn't find a clean shirt, any socks, or even his toothbrush. In wizarding tradition, Hermione was safely at her parents, not to be seen until that walk down the aisle, and so there was almost no hope for him. Harry pouted (very immature, but at the moment, pouting was appropriate). He was going to be late for his own wedding, if he wasn't careful. Just his luck.

"Hey mate!" came the call from the front door. Ron poked his head around the corner and spotted Harry.

"Hey Ron," Harry said, trying, in vain, to knot his tie.

"Harry, this is a rather casual wedding, you know that, right?" Ron said, taking the tie from Harry and throwing it on the couch. "Besides, it clashes with what you're wearing and if you wear a suit, I guarantee you will be scorching by the end of the day." Harry nodded, looking at what he was wearing.

Since it was a casual wedding, only Hermione was the one who was really going to be dressed up. For himself, Harry had chosen khaki slacks and a button-up black short-sleeved shirt and dress shoes. Hermione had decided, upon first look at him in a tuxedo, that it made him look like an anorexic penguin, and had suggested he go casual. Harry had not had the chance to see the wedding dress (yet another wizarding tradition), but was sure it looked stunning on his soon to be wife.

"Looking good, Harry," another voice, this time a woman's came from the front door. Aunt Petunia stepped into the living room. "Very glad you didn't go with the tux. That suits you much better." Harry nodded his agreement; it certainly was more comfortable.

"Well, technically, I shouldn't be here," she said. "But I was sent by Molly to give you a status report. Everything is in place, the setting looks good. Luckily it shouldn't rain today, so that won't be a problem Hermione is getting dressed and fussed over as we speak, and things should go off without a hitch."

"How does she look?" Harry asked.

"Striking, dear, absolutely gorgeous," she said. "You're going to be stunned." She looked at her watch.

"Well, I'm needed at Fort Weasley, and so I'll see you at the wedding, Harry," she gave her nephew a hug. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

"I can't believe it much myself," Harry chuckled. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I," Petunia smiled, and headed out the door.

_Meanwhile, at the Weasley's…_

"Hermione, dear! We must hurry! The wedding is in six hours!" Mrs. Weasley's frantic voice called up the stairs as Hermione put on her wedding dress. While she loved the dress, she had always been self-conscious, and today was no different.

"You look fine, Hermione," her mother said. "Just come down so we can do your hair and make-up! The dresser's almost done with everyone else!" Hermione sighed to her reflection in the mirror and walked down the stairs.

"Beautiful," said Petunia, walking through the door. "Absolutely stunning." Everyone else agreed, and there was a moment of appreciation before Hermione was grabbed by the hand and led towards the hair dresser, who was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Sorry!" said Mrs. Weasley. "We had a bit of a delay." The dresser tisked disapprovingly, but continued with his work while everyone bustled around. Ginny was to be maid of honor, and Luna, Lavender, and Pavarti bridesmaids. Bill and Fluer's two year old twins, Matt and Madison, were flower girl and ring bearer. There was a lot to be done in six hours, and Hermione could only hope time would pass quickly.

They had decided to have the wedding outside, in Mrs. Weasley's garden, which was beautiful that time of year. It was to take place actually at night, with the stars glittering overhead. It, surprisingly, had been Harry's idea, and Hermione liked the idea so much that she agreed. As Harry stood nervously at the altar, Ron slapped him on the back.

"Well, I hate to say 'I told you so'," Ron said.

"What?"

"I always knew it would be you two," he said smugly. "Always."

"At least someone did," Harry muttered, twiddling his fingers nervously. "I didn't even realize it until a few months ago. And now here we are."

"I did think it was rather sudden," Ron chuckled. "But hey, why wait, right?"

"Right," Harry smiled, still twiddling his fingers. He checked his watch. Eight o' clock. She should be here any second. He watched the back of the yard with anticipation.

Finally, the wedding march started, and Harry's heart started to beat a thousand miles a minute. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them hastily on his slacks. Having sweaty hands while getting married to the love of your life is not the best thing to do. He looked out on the crowd. It was a small wedding; only close friends and relatives allowed. There weren't many people, but all were staring at the back of the yard, as was he. And then, she arrived, and Harry's jaw dropped.

Harry, under normal circumstances, thought Hermione was beautiful, but tonight, it was compounded, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The dress was an off-white, matching well with her brown hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall. The dress was form-fitting and strapless, making Harry wish the ceremony was over so he could get both of them home and alone. She walked slowly down the aisle; so slowly that Harry thought he was watching things in slow motion. That was, at least, until Ron physically went over and pulled his jaw up from the ground.

"Well then," said the priest when Hermione was put in front of him. "We are gathered here today to join these two in wizarding matrimony." The small group attending nodded.

"While I have not known Harry and Hermione as long as any of you have," he began, "The moment I met them, I knew that they were meant for each other. These two have been through so much together, that it is no surprise they have decided to make the bond official. They share a friendship and romance so unique that it defies all odds. Both would readily give their lives for each other, as it should be with all marriages…" He droned on for awhile longer, naming the best traits of Harry and Hermione, and then the two of them together.

"Now, Harry, repeat after me," the priest said at last, bringing Harry back to his senses; he had barely been able to take his eyes off Hermione.

"I, Harry James Potter,"

"I, Harry James Potter,"

"Take thee, Hermione Jane Granger, as my wife,"

"Take thee, Hermione Jane Granger as my wife,"

"To love and cherish,"

"To love and cherish,"

"For as long as you both shall live,"

"For as long as we both shall live," Harry said. The priest smiled. Harry and Hermione had opted out of the "obey and cherish", "in sickness and in health", and "for richer or poorer" in their vows, for they assumed they were a given in marriage, and did not need to be said to be true. The priest instructed Hermione to do the same.

"Now, the rings," he said, clasping his hands together. Matt sleepily made his way up the yard; Harry wished he hadn't chosen to do the wedding at night, Matt was only two after all. The priest smiled again and handed the rings to the couple.

"Now, Harry, repeat after me…again," the priest chuckled. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," Harry said, sliding the ring onto Hermione's hand.

"Hermione, your turn,"

"With this ring, I thee wed," Hermione said, sliding the ring onto Harry's left hand.

"I am now pleased to pronounce you man and wife," the priest said. "You may now kiss the bride." Harry smiled and gave his new wife a kiss. They turned to face their family and friends.

"I am now pleased to introduce you to….Mr. and Mrs. Potter!" the voice seemed to echo around the yard, and so did the applause and cheers. Harry turned to Hermione and smiled eager to begin their new life together.

The End

A/N: I know, corny ending, but I was writing through writer's block…cut me some slack! Please read and review! I hope you liked it. I'm contemplating a sequel, tell me if you think I should.


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